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THE 



MORAL INSTRUCTOR, 



AND 



t 



BEING 

A COMPENDIUM OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

IN EIGHT PARTS. 



Fart 1. Original Essays on the Dif- 
fusionjof Knowledge, Moral Re- 
formaSbn, Sec. 

2. Epitome of the Moral precepts 
of the Bible. 

3. Abridgment of the Lives and Mo- 
ral Discourses of Confucius and 
Socrates, and Seneca's Morals. 

4. Abridgment of the Law of Na- 



ture, and the Economy of Human 
Life. 

5. Abridgment of Penn's Maxims, 
Paley's Moral Philosophy, and 
Knigge's Art of Conversing with 
Men. 

6. Selections from Franklin's Works. 

7. Miscellaneous Articles. 

8. Pope's Essay on Man, &e. 



DESIGNED FOR A NATIONAL MANUAL OF MORAL SCIENCE, IN AMERICAN 
SEMINARIES OF EDUCATION, AND PRIVATE FAMILIES. 



BY JESSE TORREY, JUNR. 

a — . 

Human Happiness is founded upon Wisdom and Virtue. SenE€A» 
" 'Tis ignorance mainly binds people in chains: 
1 Tis this too, the empire of folly maintains: 
Vice shrinks from instruction, like darkness from light* 
And despots shun noontide and covet the night" 



TENTH EDITION. 



PitlaXreljtfua: 

PUBLISHED AND SOLD BY JOHN GRIGG, NO. 9, NORTH FOURTH 

STREET, AND SOLD BY BOOKSELLERS AND COUNTRY 

MERCHANTS GENERALLY. 



Stereotyped by J. Howe. 
1836. 






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s* 



Eastern District of Pennsylvania^ to wit : 
Be IT REMEMBERE©, That on the twenty-second day of November, in the 
^____^ forty-eighth year of the Independence of the United States of 
I -r & } America, A. D. 1823, Jesse Torrey, junior, of the said District, 
t * * j hath deposited in this office the title of a book, the right whereof 
he claims as author, in the following words, to wit : 
" The Moral Instructor, and Guide to Virtue : being a Compendium of 
Moral Philosophy* In eight parts. Part 1 . Original Essays on the Diffusion 
of Knowledge,, Moral Reformation, &c. — 2. Epitome of the Moral precepts 
of the Bible. — 3. Abridgment of the Lives and Moral Discourses of Confu- 
cius and Socrates, and Seneca's Morals. — 4. Abridgment of the Law of Na- 
ture, and the Economy of Human Life. — 5. Abridgment of Penn's Maxims, 
Paley's Moral Philosophy, and Knigge's Art of Conversing with Men. — 6. Se- 
lections from Franklin's Works. — 7. Miscellaneous Articles. — 8. Pope's Essay 
on Man, &c. Designed for a National Manual of Moral Science, in Ameri- 
can Seminaries of Education, and private Families. By Jesse Torrey, junr. 

Human Happiness is founded upon Wisdom and Virtue. Seneca. 
u Tis ignorance mainly binds people in chains : 
5 Tis this too, the empire of folly maintains : 
Vice shrinks from instruction, like darkness from light : 
And despots shun noontide and covet the night." 

In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United States, entitled, " An 
act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the eopies of maps, 
charts, and books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies, during the 
times therein mentioned." And also to the act, entitled, "An act supplementa- 
ry to an act, entitled, " An act for the encouragement of learning, by securing 
the copies of maps, charts, and books, to the authors and proprietors of such 
copies during the times therein mentioned," and extending the benefits there- 
of to the arts of designing, engraving, and etching historical and other prints." 

D. CALDWELL, Clerk of the 
Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 



TO THE PEOPLE 

THE UNITED STATES. 

The design of the following compendium, is more to 
disseminate useful instruction 'among all classes of soci- 
ety, than to gratify literary taste or curiosity. 

The Author has long cherished the conviction, that if 
the community would appropriate as much wealth to the 
diffusion of useful knowledge among the rising genera- 
tion, as is now devoted to the punishment instead of the 
prevention of crimes and vice, the desired object would 
be attained, and human misery averted to a much greater 
extent. 

But a small proportion of the people have the means to 
purchase, or leisure to study voluminous systems of Moral 
Philosophy. On the contrary, dogmatical, sententious 
precepts, unsupported by demonstration, are not generally 
convincing, nor adapted to the independent spirit of hu- 
man nature. Whenever men shall resolve to make moral 
rectitude their inflexible rule of action, each individual 
must be persuaded in his oivn mind, independently of the 
dictations of others, that his own welfare will be thereby 
promoted, as well as that of his neighbors. 

It is but of little avail to the majority of the human 
family, that philosophers of different ages and nations 
have exerted their talents in perfecting the science of 
moral wisdom, as long as no one will take the pains to 
collect and concentrate the best fruits of their labors into 
a convenient portable vehicle for universal distribution, 
upon the boundless table of the Printing-Press. 
• The Compiler has been, for many years, impressed with 
the utility of such a work as the one now offered to the 
public; and has accordingly improved every means in his 






power, in accumulating from various and remote sources 
and periods, the requisite materials. The candid reader, 
who meets with several articles in this compilation, with 
which he has already been familiarized, will excuse its 
want of total novelty, when he reflects, that nearly all the 
youth, and a large proportion of adult readers, will find 
it as new to them, and as useful, as if it were an entire 
original work. If the sentiments be correct and valuable, 
and clearly expressed, it is of no importance whether 
they were first committed to paper yesterday, or three 
thousand years ago. 

One particular object of this work, is to inculcate the 
necessity and duty of general domestic and national econo- 
my and simplicity of manners. It may be confidently 
presumed, that if the idolatrous and slavish sacrifices of 
property, to Pride, Fashion, Custom, Tradition, Extrava- 
gance, and depraved Appetite, were abolished, Poverty, 
with its hideous train of calamities, might be expelled 
from society, and General Plenty ', with its smiling train 
of blessings, substituted in their stead. 

Embracing these important purposes, the work is res- 
pectfully submitted to the good sense of the people of the 
United States, for their adoption as a National Code of 
Morals in schools and families. 

The Compiler does not delude himself with the vain 
hope that it will accomplish the moral reformation of the 
present hardened adult generations ; — but he does sin- 
cerely believe, that the universal dissemination of its im- 
pressive precepts among the tender, susceptible, rising 
generation, cannot fail to produce a salutary influence 
upon the future national, moral and political character of 
our Republic. That such may be the result, is the ardent 

wish of its devoted friend and servant, 

J. T. 

Philadelphia, Jan. 1824. 



CONTENTS. 



PART FIRST. *AGS. 

Chap* 1 . Essays on the general Diffusion of Knowledge* 
Sec. 1. Necessity and advantages of knowledge . . 13 

2. A serious address to the rising generation of the United 

States 18 

Chap. 2; Essays on the Use of Intoxicating Liquors, 

Sec. 1. Public calamities produced by intemperance . . 21 

2. The habitual use of spirituous liquors a violation of 

duty 28 

3. Speech of the Little Turtle, an Indian Chief, on the 

ravages of whiskey among the Indians ... 29 
Chap. 3. Essays on Political and Domestic Economy. 
Sec. 1. Observations on the use of tea, coffee, sugar, and to- 
bacco ........ 30 

2. Observations on extravagance, fashion, causes of pov- 
erty, war, &e. . . . . . . .35 

PART SECOND. 

Chap. 1. Selections from the Old Testament . 41 

Chap. 2. Extracts from the Wisdom of Jesus .... 44 
Chap. 3. Selections from the New Testament. 

Sec. 1. Instructions of Jesus Christ ..... 45 

2. Instructions of Paul the Apostle .... 49 

3. Extracts from the Epistles of James, Peter, and John 51 



Chap. 
Chap. 

Sec. 1. 
2, 
3, 
4, 



6. 
Chap. c . 
Sec. 1. 

2. 
3. 
4. 
5. 



9. 
10. 
11. 
12. 
13. 



PART THIRD. 

Abridgment of the life and precepts of Confucius 
Abridgment of the life and moral discourses of Socrates. 

Character of Socrates 

Dialogue between Socrates and Glauco, on ambition 
Discourse of Socrates on the beneficence of God 
Accusation, defence, condemnation and death of So- 
crates ........ 

Discourses of Socrates on filial and fraternal affection 
Dialogue between Socrates and Critobulus, on friendship 
Abridgment of Seneca?s Morals. 
Abridgment of Seneca's discourse on beneficence 
Abridgment of Seneca?s Treatise on a happy Life. 
On a happy fife, and wherein it consists 
Human happiness is founded upon wisdom and virtue 
There can be no happiness without virtue 
Philosophy is the guide of life ..... 

No felicity like peace of conscience 

Contemplation of Providence, remedy of misfortunes 

Of levity of mind, and other impediments to a happy 

life 

A sensual life is a miserable life ..... 
Avarice and ambition are insatiable and restless 
The blessings of temperance and moderation 
Constancy of mind makes a man happy, &c. 
Our happiness depends on our choice of company • 

A2 



53 

56 
59 
61 

63 
66 
68 

70 

71 
73 
74 
76 

79 
81 

82 



86 
87 
88 



VI 

PAGE. 

Sec. 14. The blessings of friendship .... 89 

15. He that would be happy must take an account of time 90 

16. Happy is the man that may choose his own business 91 

17. On immoderate sorrow for the death of friends . 92 

18. Mediocrity the best state of fortune ... 93 
Abridgment of Seneca's Treatise on Anger. 

19. Anger described : it is against nature . . . ib. 

20. Anger is a short madness, and a deformed vice . 95 

21. Anger is neither warrantable nor useful ... 96 

22. Advice in cases of contumely and revenge . . 100 

PART FOURTH. 

Chap. 1. Abridgment of the Law of Nature. 

Sec. 1. The law of nature defined and illustrated by examples 

2. Characters of the law of nature ... * 

3. Principles of the law of nature, as they relate to man ; 

importance of instruction and self-government 

4. Of the basis of morality ; of good, of evil, of crimes, 

of vice and virtue 

5. Of private virtues ; of knowledge, temperance, indus- 

try, cleanliness 

6. Of domestic virtues ; economy, parental affection, con- 

jugal love, filial love, brotherly love 

7. Of the social virtues ; of justice, charity, probity, sim- 

plicity of manners, patriotism .... 
Chap. 2. Abridgment of the Economy of Human Life. 
Sec. 1. Duties that relate to man as an individual 

2. The Passions ; joy and grief, anger, pity 

3. Woman 

4. Duties of children and brothers .... 

5. Wise and ignorant, rich and poor, masters and servants 

6. Social duties ; benevolence, justice, charity, religion 

7. Man considered in general 

PART FIFTH. 
Chap. 1. Abridgment of Penris Reflections and •Maxims relating 
to the conduct of Human Life ; and his advice to his 
children ........ 

Chap. 2. Abridgment of Paley's Moral Philosophy. 
Sec. 1. Definition and use of the science 

Human happiness 

Virtue 

The Divine benevolence . 

Promises : contracts of sale : of lending of money : of 
labor ....... 

Lies : revenge : duelling : slander 
Of the duty of parents. Education . 
Chap. 3. Abridgment of Knigge's Practical Philosophy. 
$ec. 1. General rules for our conversation with men 
On the conversation with ourselves 
On the conversation with people of different tempers 
On the conversation with people of a different age 
On the conversation between parents and children 



103 
104 

105 

107 

10S 

112 

114 

119 
121 
123 
124 
125 
127 
129 



2. 
3. 
4. 
5. 

6. 
7. 



2. 
3. 

4. 



133 

143 

144 
148 
149 

151 
153 
154 

156 
158 
160 
162 
164 



Vll 

PAGE. 
Sec. 6. On conversation between masters and servants . .165 

7. Beneficence and gratitude : Instructors and pupils : 

creditors and debtors . . . . . . 166 

8. On our conduct towards others in peculiar situations 167 

9. Principal causes of the want of domestic pleasures 169 
10. On candor and tolerance in conversation . . .171 

PART SIXTH. 
Chap. 1. Selections from the Life of Franklin. 

Sec. 1. His early diligence in improving' his mind, &c. . 173 

2. His temperance and frugality while a journeyman, &c. 178 

3. He resolves on the inflexible practice of truth, &c. . 181 
Chap. 2. S elections from the continuation of the Life of Franklin, 

icritten by himself 

Sec. 1. Letters from Abel James, &c. to Dr. Franklin . 183 

2. Continuation. He establishes a library in Philadelphia ; 

his domestic habits 185 

3. His project of arriving 1 at moral perfection : Art of 

virtue 187 

4. His project of raising a united party to virtue, &e. . 195 
Chap. 3. Abridgment of Cicero's Discourse on old age. 

Sec. 1. A well spent life essential to a happy old age . . 198 
2. Moderation in exercise and diet ; science, &c. . .201 

Chap. 4. Dialogues concerning Self -denial. Virtue, Pleasure. 

Sec. 1. Reasonable self-denial, necessary to happiness . . 205 

2. Government of the passions ; doing good to others, &c. 209 

Chap. 5. Franklin's Way to Wealth. 

Sec. 1. Industry: early rising : vigilance .... 213 

2. Frugality, calamities of pride, extravagance, &c. . 216 

3. Advice to a young tradesman .... 220 

4. The way to make money plenty in every man's pocket 222 
Chap. 6. Selections from the Moral Essays and Letters of Dr. 

Franklin. 

Sec. 1. The handsome and deformed leg .... 223 

2. The art of procuring pleasant dreams . . . 224 

3. On luxury, idleness, and industry .... 227 

4. Extract of a Letter to George Whitefield, on practical 

religion 228 

PART SEVENTH. 

Chap. 1. Selections from Washington's farewell address . 230 
Chap. 2. Miscellaneous articles on Education, &c. 

Sec. 1. Sunday schools ; education of the poor, &c. . . . 234 

2. The Spectator, on the benefit of labor and exercise 237 

3. The Spectator, on the advantages of temperance . 239 

4. Belknap's address to the people of N. Hampshire • 242 

5. Dialogue on female education .... 245 

6. Speech of Mr. White, in Congress, on education . 248 

7. Extracts from Mr. Madison's letter on education . 251 

8. Prospects of America, — from the Address of J. Roberts, 

Esq. to the Pennsylvania Agricultural Society • 252 



vm 

PAGE. 
Sec. 9. Persuasive to early piety and moral rectitude, — from Dr. 
Beasley's Address to the senior class of the students 
of the University of Pennsylvania .... 255 

10. General establishment of free schools : — inhumanity of 

imprisonment for debt ; from Gov. Thomas' Message 

to the Legislature of Delaware .... 258 

11. Early rising conducive to health and long life . 262 

PART EIGHTH. 
Chap. 1. Pope's Essay on Man, #c. 
Epist. 1. Of the nature and state of man with respect to the 

universe 263 

2. On the nature and state of man with respect to himself, 

as an individual .268 

3. Of the nature and state of man with respect to society 274 

4. Of the nature and state of man with respect to happi- 

ness 279 

5. The universal prayer . . . . . . 288 

Chap. 2. Fragments from Thomson's Seasons. 

Sec. 1. Early rising; — Address to the Sun .... 290 

2. Charity . . . . ... . 291 

3. Primeval Innocence ...... ib. 

4. Barbarity of hunting and shooting merely for sport 292 

5. Address to Philosophy ; Advantages of Science, Arts, 

and Civilization 293 

6. Domestic Happiness 294 

Chap. 3. Miscellaneous Articles. 

Sec. 1. Happiness; — by Miss Ann Candler . * . 296 

2. Cruelty to inferior animals censured .... 297 

3. Mischievous Amusements of schoolboys . . . 298 

APPENDIX. 

An economical Project for the expeditious and universal diffusion 

of knowledge * 299 



RECOMMENDATIONS- 



From John Van Ness Yates, Esq. Secretary of the State of New-York, and 
Superintendent of Common Schools, ex officio 

Dr. Jesse Torrey, Jtjx, 

Dear Sir, 

I have perused, with much pleasure, the volume lately published by you, enti- 
tled " The Moral Instructor, and Guide to Virtue" and I have no hesitation in 
giving it my most decided and unqualified approbation. The selections it con- 
tains are well adapted to promote the great purposes it has in view: and I think 
it ought to be in the hands of every Parent, Guardian, and Instructor, as a man- 
ual which will essentially benefit the rising generation. — The original pieces in 
the work, are highly creditable to your head and heart, and worthy 01 perusal 
and patronage. 

I sincerely wish you success in this work, and that every seminary of educa- 
tion and virtue may both be profited and delighted by your labours. 
I am, respectfully, your most obedient servant, 

JOHN VAN NESS YATES. 
Albany, June 4, 1819. 



From the Hon. Samuel Youn^, Member of the Senate of the State of 
N ew-York. 

I have perused a book compiled by Dr. Jesse Torrey, entitled " The Moral 
Instructor" and am satisfied that it is well calculated to instruct youth in cor- 
rect moral sentiments; and that its introduction into Common Schools would be 
highly useful. 

SAMUEL YOUNG, 
Ballston, June 1, 1819. 



From the Hon. Estes Howe. 

Albany, June 4, 1819. 
Sir, 
I have been much gratified in the examination of your "Moral Instructor" 
and do not know of any Book of Morals more useful, or better calculated to be 
put into the hands of our youth. 

I do therefore, cheerfully recommend it to the use of our Schools and Acad- 
emies. 

Very respectfully, yours, &c. 

ESTES HOWE. 
Dr. J. Torrey, 



Extract of a note from the Hon. Thomas Jefferson, late President of the Uni-- 
ted States, dated Monticello, Jan- 5, 1822. 
"I thank you, Sir, for the copy of you* i Moral Instructor.' I had read the 
first edition with great satisfaction, and encouraged its reading in my family." 



Extracts of a Letter from the Hon. James Madison, late President of the Uni- 
ted States, dated Montpelier, Jan. 30, 1822. 
" Sir, 

* I have received your letter of the 15th, with a copy of the * Moral Instruc- 
tor.'" 

" I have looked enough into your little volume to be satisfied, that both the ori- 
ginal and selected parts contain information and instruction which may be useful, 
not only to juvenile, but most other readers." 

" Your plan of free libraries, to be spread through the community, does credit 



to your benevolent zeal. The trial of them, in behalf of apprentices, seems to 
have been justly approved, and to have had an encouraging success-" 

"A tree of useful knowledge, planted in every neighborhood, would lielp to 
make a paradise— as that of forbidden use, occasioned the loss of one- And I 
wish you success in propagating the fruitful blessing. 

" With friendly respects, 

JAMES MADISON." 
Dr. Torrey. 



Extracts of Letters from the Hon- John Adams, late President of the United 
States, dated Montezillo, Feb- 8. and March 13, 1820. 

Sir, 

a I thank you for your * Moral Instructor •' I have read the table of contents, 
and turned over the leaves, and have found nothing but such excellent maxims 
of wisdom and virtue, which cannot be too plentifully scattered among the peo- 
ple, nor presented in too great a variety of forms. The compilation and compo- 
sition of this work must have cost you much labor of research, and of thought, 
which merits well of the public." 

" As I am a friend to all rational measures for propagating knowledge among 
all classes of people, I wish success to your project of free libraries. " A repub- 
lican government, without knowledge and virtue, is a body without a soul — a 
5 of corruption and putrefaction — food for worms. 
" I am, Sir, your obliged and obedient humble servant, 

JOHN ADAMS." 



From Frederick Beasley, Provost of the University of Pennsylvania. 
I have examined Mr- Torrey 's work, entitled, " The Moral Instructor" and 
think that he has condensed into it as much useful information as I have ever 
seen collected into so small a compass, and moreover, consider it as one of the 
best books of the kind to be read by young persons, either in our schools or out 
of them, that has been compiled- 

FREDERICK BEASLEY- 
June 26, 1828. 

_ \ 

From Roberts Vaux, President of the Controllers of the Public Schools in 

Philadelphia. 
" The Moral Instmictor " is a valuable compilation. It appears to be well 
adapted for elementary schools; and it will give me pleasure to learn that the les- 
sons which it contains are furnished for the improvement of our youth generally. 

Respectfully, 

ROBERTS VAUX. 
Philadelphia, 5th mo. 8, 1823. 



From teachers of Schools and Academies- 
The subscribers, having carefully examined " The Moral Instructor and Guide 
to Virtue and Happiness," freely give our opinion that it contains a condensed 
body of valuable moral and philosophical instruction, which ought to be in pos- 
session of every individual — As a compendium of moral knowledge, we con- 
sider it an essential book for every family library and seminary of education. 
JOSIAH J. UNDERHILL, teacher of Lancaster school, Hudson- 
ENOCH HAIGHT, teacher, Nine Partners' boarding school. 
A. G- THOMPSON, English teacher in the academy at Poughkeepsie. 
T. W. NORTON, teacher of a select school, Albany. 
R. O. K. BENNETT, teacher in Troy. 

NICHOLAS MORRIS, Principal of Wesleyan Seminary, New- York. 
AARON MERCHANT, Principal of Union Academy, New- York. 
HALLO WAY W- HUNT, Jr. Principal of Trenton Academy. 
M. SMITH, Principal of Elizabethtown Academy. 
ANDREW SMITH, Principal of Newark Academy. 
SAMUEL BLOOD, Preceptor of Franklin Academy, Chambersburg, Pa- 



XI 

From Teachers in Washington City. 
Central Academy, Washington, D> C. April 10, 1828. 
We have carefully examined " The Moral Instructor and Guide to Virtue" 
published by Dr. J. Torrey, and consider it one of the best books for the use of 
schools, that we have ever seen. It is a work well calculated to enlighten the 
minds, and improve the habits of youth, and to impress them with the advantages 
of knowledge and virtue- 

We have adopted it as a class book in the seminary under our care; and think 
its universal introduction into American academies and schools and private fami- 
lies would be of great public utility. 

JOHN M'LEOD, Principal. 
ROBERT KIRKWOOD. 



Having carefully perused " The Moral Instructor," I concur in the above 
mentioned sentiments, and have introduced it into the school under my care. 

HENRY OULD, 
Teacher of Washington Lancasterian school for the first District 
April 10, 1823. 



From Mr. Salem Town, Principal of Granville Academy, N- Y. 
I have carefully examined " The Moral Instructor ;" and am satisfied, that the 
work is well calculated to enlighten the understanding, and improve the heart; 
to form the moral taste of our youth, in accordance with the sound principles of 
morality and virtue. SALEM TOWN-* 

Granville, Jan- 8, 1820. 



I concur in the opinion of the above gentleman. 

JOSEPH HOXIE, Principal of Philom. Academy. 
New-York, Feb. 20, 1820. 



From Teachers of Academies and Schools in Baltimore and Philadelphia- 
Having examined " The Moral Instructor," and being satisfied that it is a 
work well adapted for the higher classes of scholars in Academies and Schools, 
we have concluded to adopt it as a class book in the seminaries under our care; 
and cheerfully recommend it to the public as a valuable repository of moral in- 
formation, — interesting to all classes of society, but particularly deserving the 
attentive and repeated perusal of young persons of both sexes, from ten years to 
maturity of age- In giving publicity to our high estimation of the merits of the 
Moral Instructor, we consider ourselves as rendering a service to society, (if 
the work should, in consequence, be more known and circulated) as well as jus- 
tice to the author, who, in our opinion, is entitled to the gratitude of the rising 
generation, and the thanks and patronage of parents and teachers. 



JAMES F- GOULD, 

ALEXANDER M'CAINE, 

D. & J. M'INTIRE, 

F. FENNER, 

J. WALKER, Jun. 

WM- KESLEY, 

JOHN WRIGHT, 

R. P. STROUD, 

F. SPENCER, 

Baltimore, April, 1823. 



J. WALKER, & SON, 

A- CLARK, 

A. B. CLEAVELAND, 

IRA HILL, 

R. M. JONES, 

MICHAEL POWER, 

L. H- GIRARDIN, Principal of Bal^ 

timore College, 
PATRICK O'KELLY, German St. 



JOHN OWEN, (JOSEPH WOOD, 

W B. TAPPAN & S. M'L- STA- DANIEL L. PECK, Teacher of the 

PLES, Congregational School, of the 2<i 

GEORGE DENISON, College Ave- Presbyterian Church, 

nue, • i 

* Now Preceptor of the Academy at Athens, Georgia., 



Xll 



THOMAS T. SMILEY, 29 Church 

Alley, 
CHARLES BARRINGTON, 129 

Lombard street, 
SHEPHERD A. REEVE, Professor 
of Mathematics, N atural Philosophy, 
&c. and Principal of Franklin Aca- 
demy. 

Philadelphia, May, 1823. 



J. IRVIN HITCHCOCK, 22 Cfaeray 

JOSEPH R. CHANDLER, 164 N 

Third street, 
BENJAMIN MAYO, 
WILLIAM DUNCAN, 
J LEWIS & R. FISH, 
J. WARREN, 6 North Eighth etreet 
JOHN HANCE. 



Extract of a letter from John Hamer, teacher of English, Mathematics, &c. 
Dear Sir, 

I have perused " The Moral Instructor" more than once, with increased 
satisfaction, and have pleasure in giving it my unqualified approbation. I have 
no hesitation to say, that the compilation is, in my estimation, much the best that 
has appeared in the English language. 

Respectfully yours, 

JOHN HAMER. 
Old College, N- 4th st- Philad- October 30th, 1823. 

Extracts from the Columbian- 
"THE MORAL INSTRUCTOR." 
" I have occasionally dipped into Dr. Torrey's Moral Instructor, first from 
curiosity, and then more paiticu^arly to ascertain the drift or tenor of the work, 
and the manner in which it is executed. Having known the author and compi- 
ler for several years, I could expect nothing but sound morality, correct philoso- 
phy and useful instruction from this book- It is an Essay to do Good, like Cotton 
Mather's, and cannot be read without benefit. 1 ' " I find nothing in it to offend 
the strictest sectarian in religion or politics, and consider myself discharging a 
duty and rendering a benefit to society in recommending so cheap and valuable 
a compend to public notice, as a very excellent and proper work for the use of 
schools, as well as private families and individuals. C H. 

From the Maryland Herald. 
" Having examined a copy of the second edition of the Moral Instructor, we 
think it highly deserving or the respectable and empliatical commendations which 
it has received- It ought to have a universal circulation. The wise maxims and 
precepts with which it abounds, are interesting to people of all classes and con- 
ditions, and we think it is the best compilation for the m« ntal and moral improve- 
ment of youth, that we have seen, foreign or domestic-" 



From Edward P. Livingston, Esq- late Senator in Congress, from the State 
of New- York. 

Having perused the " Moral Instructor" compiled by Dr. Torrey, I concur 
in opinion with those gentlemen who have recommended it as a work which may 
be ueetully introduced into Academies and Common Schools. 

EDWARD P. LIVINGSTON. 



THE MORAL INSTRUCTOR, 

AND 

GUIDE TO VIRTUE. 



PART FIRST. 

ORIGINAL ESSAYS ON THE DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE, 
MORAL REFORMATION, &c. 



CHAPTER 1. 

ESSAYS ON THE GENERAL DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE, 
SECTION I. 

Necessity and advantages of Knowledge. 

14 Man's general ignorance, old as the flood, 
" For ages on ages has steep'd him in blood." 

1 KNOWLEDGE is essentially necessary to the well 
being and happiness of every member of the human family, 
whether male or female, rich or poor. To ignorance may be 
traced the origin of most of the vices, crimes, errors and fol- 
lies, that distract and destroy mankind. It is the mother of 
misery — a mazy labyrinth of perpetual night. 

2 Besides the intellectual pleasure derived from the ac- 
quisition and possession of useful knowledge, the well-in- 
formed man (of whatever occupation) being acquainted with 
moral and physical causes and effects, has an eminent advan- 
tage over the ignorant man, in the capacity of providing for 
his welfare. General instruction, therefore, is the harbinger 
of national virtue, prosperity and happiness. 

3 The public or private provision for elementary educa- 
tion in common schools, has, of late, become very general in 
the United States. But the education of youth should not 
cease with the expiration of. their attendance on public 
schools. Legislators and parents indulge themselves in a 
pernicious mistake, if they suppose that the primary arts of 
spelling, reading, writing, grammar, and arithmetic, the prin- 
cipal branches taught ia common schools, will qualify our 



14 

youth for the various social, moral, and political duties of 
life. Those indispensable arts are the keys — but libraries 
are the chests of knowledge. 

4 Although it is an axiom, generally admitted, that in- 
terest and happiness are identified with the practice of virtue 
and moral rectitude, yet, so powerful is the influence of 
example and the habits of society, that much reading and 
much reflection are generally requisite (and they sometimes 
fail) to produce a firm resolution to adopt the principle of 
virtue and moral rectitude as an inflexible rule of conduct. 

5 Much the greater proportion of our youth are dismissed 
from the primary schools, and arrive to maturity, with very 
little or no acquaintance with the precepts and works of the 
most eminent moral teachers, whose names are preserved 
from oblivion. 

6 The printing press is the main engine, and books are 
the rapid vehicles for the general distribution of instruction. 
The discovery of the art of printing, and of manufacturing 
paper, gives us a vast ascendency over our ancestors in the 
facility of propagating knowledge ; yet, notwithstanding the 
immense difference between the cost of books within the last 
four hundred years, and the whole anterior space of time, 
but few, comparatively speaking, can sustain the expense of 
private libraries. 

7 Most people would probably become readers, if fur- 
nished with suitable books at a proper time of life. It is 
only necessary to offer instruction to the voluntary accept- 
ance of youth, in a proper manner, to produce an ardent 
appetite for it. It will be found, by computing the leisure- 
of every youth, at two hours daily, from the age of ten to 
twenty-one years, that it is sufficient for reading seven hun- 
dred volumes 12mo. of three hundred pages. 

8 The long preparatory period of youth, designed by our 
beneficent Creator, for the acquirement of knowledge, and 
laying the foundation for a useful and happy life, to the 
greatest portion of mankind, is almost entirely lost, and 
often worse than lost, except as to the attainment of corpo- 
real maturity. 

9 The countless hordes of savages, composing an im- 
mense majority of the human race, as well as millions of 
people classed among civilized nations, may be said to grow 
up and march successively through the journey of life, in a 
state of mental childhood. Hence it is no mystery, that they 
remain, perpetually, in a state of delusion and depravity. 



15 

10 Intellectual cultivation is the basis of virtue a«id hap- 
piness. As mental improvement advances, vice and crimes 
recede. That desirable happy era, when the spirit of peace 
and benevolence shall pervade all the nations which inhabit 
the earth ; when national, personal, and mental slavery r , shall 
be exterminated ; when nations and individuals shall cease 
to hunt and destroy each other's lives and property ; when 
the science and implements of human preservation and fe- 
licity, shall be substituted for those of slaughter and wo, will 
commence, precisely at the moment when the rays of useful 
knowledge, wisdom and virtue, shall have been extended to 
the whole human family. 

1 1 By useful knowledge, I mean not only an acquaintance 
with valuable arts and sciences, but also, an understanding of 
our various moral and religious duties, in relation to our 
Creator, to our neighbour, and to ourselves. 

12 By wisdom, I mean that kind of sagacity, which in- 
fluences us to regulate our passions and conduct, in con- 
formity to the precepts of knowledge, reason and religion. 
Until an approach towards such a state of things is effected, 
the names of peace, liberty and security, on this earth, will 
differ but little from an ignis fatuus, either to monarchs or 
their vassals. 

13 At present, violence assumes almost universal sway ; 
and ignorance is the magic spell which sustains its sceptre. 
Therefore, what more glorious achievement, what greater 
aggregate and ultimate good, can be produced to mankind, 
by the application of the power of governments and the 
surplus wealth of individuals, than by reclaiming man from 
the chains of ignorance, vice, oppression and misery, and 
thereby, elevating poor degraded human nature to that scale 
of dignity in the creation, to which it was evidently destined, 
by the Supreme Parent of the Universe. 

14 In our own country, particularly, instruction ought to 
be universal. For virtue only, can sustain and perpetuate 
our political organization. As every citizen, therefore, is 
vitally interested in the universal dissemination of know- 
ledge and virtue, let all classes combine their influence and 
means, in promoting the general welfare. 

15 In addition to the motives of patriotism and benevo- 
lence, the wealthier classes of society, are interested in a 
pecuniary point of view, in the universal intellectual and 
moral improvement of youth. For, as intemperance and in- 
dolence are the invariable, and almost only causes of pau- 



16 

perism, Dimes, voluntarily applied to the instruction of 

Jouth, will prevent the compulsory expenditure of as many 
dollars, in partially relieving the miseries of pauperism, and 
the premature diseases of self-immolated victims of vice. 

16 It is very seldom that men of intelligence, who have 
been educated to habits of virtue and industry, and who de- 
light to employ their leisure hours in the acquirement of use- 
ful knowledge, by reading or otherwise, will deliriously and 
idolatrously sacrifice their reputations, their estates and 
lives, their wives and children, in a word, their happiness, 
to the voracious, unmerciful, and barbarous god of intem- 
perance. 

1 7 Let American legislators, both national and sectional, 
perform their duty to their country and its posterity ; and 
to mankind, by listening to the wise counsels of many illus- 
trious living sages, and pursue, without delay, the inestima- 
ble "parting advice" of George Washington, Benjamin 
Rush, Samuel Adams, and other departed friends and patrons 
of man ; and establish public schools, and judiciously select- 
ed free circulating libraries, in every part of the Republic 

18 Let moral virtue constitute an essential branch of in- 
struction in every school ; so that our youth may be care- 
fully taught the art of acting correctly, as well as of speak- 
ing, reading, and writing correctly. 

1 9 Dr. Rush, in his Oration, " On the Influence of Physi- 
*\al causes upon the Moral Faculty," makes an earnest ap- 
peal in favour of universal knowledge : — "Illustrious Coun- 
sellors and Senators of Pennsylvania!" he exclaims, "I 
anticipate your candid reception of this feeble effort to in- 
crease the quantity of virtue in the republic. 

20 " Nothing can be politically right, that is morally 
wrong ; and no necessity can sanctify a law, that is contrary 
to equity. Virtue is the soul of the Republic. There is 
but one method of preventing crimes, and of rendering a 
republican form of government durable, and that is, by dis- 
seminating the seeds of virtue and knowledge, through every 
part of the state, by means of proper places and modes of 
education, and this can be done effectually only by the inter- 
ference and aid of the Legislature. 

21 a I am so deeply impressed with the truth of this 
opinion, that were this evening to be the last of my life, I 
would not only say to the asylum of my ancestors, and my 
beloved country, with the patriot of Venice, ' Esto perpetua,' 
[Be thou perpetual] but I would add, as the last proof of my 



17 
affection for her, my parting advice to the guardians of her 
liberties, no establish PUBLIC SCHOOLS in every part 
of the State/ 

22 " Promote, then, as an object of primary importance, 
institutions for the general diffusion of kncrwledge. In pro- 
portion as the structure of a government gives force to pub- 
lic opinion, it is essential that public opinion should be en- 
lightened." Washington. 

23 "To secure the perpetuation of our Republican form of 
Government to future generations, let Divines and Philoso- 
phers, Statesmen and Patriots, unite their endeavours to ren- 
ovate the age, by impressing the minds of the people with 
the importance of educating their little boys and girls." 

S. Jldams. 

24 " A Republican Government, without knowledge and 
virtue, is a body without a soul — a mass of corruption and 
putrefaction — food for worms." J. Adams. 

25 "I know no safe depository of the ultimate powers of 
society, but the people themselves : and if we think them 
not enlightened enough to exercise their control with a 
wholesome discretion, the remedy is, not to take it from them, 
but to inform their discretion by education." Jefferson. 

26 "Without knowledge, the blessings of liberty cannot 
be fully enjoyed, or long preserved." Madison. 

27 "Ignorance is every where such an infallible instru- 
ment of despotism, that there can be no hope of continuing 
even our present forms of government, either federal or state, 
much less that spirit of equal liberty and justice, in which 
they were founded, but by diffusing universally among the 
people that portion of instruction which is sufficient to teach 
them their duties and their rights. " Barlow. 

28 "And without going into the monitory history of the 
ancient world, in all its quarters, and at all its periods, that of 
the soil in which we live, and of its occupants, indigenous 
and emigrant, teaches the awful lesson — that no nation is 
permitted to live in ignorance with impunity" Jefferson. 

29 "With knowledge and virtue the united efforts of ig 
norance and tyranny may be defied." 

Miller ', late governor of North Carolina. 

30 " In a government where all may aspire, to the highest 
offices in the state, it is essential that education should be 
placed within the reach of all. Without intelligence, self- 
government, our dearest privilege, cannot be exercised." 

Nicholas, late governor of Virginia. 

B2 



18 

31 Clinton, late governor of New York, has elegantly ex- 
pressed his sentiments; "That education is the guardian of 
liberty and the bulwark of morality. And that knowledge 
and virtue are, generally speaking, inseparable companions, 
and are, in the moral, what light and heat are in the natural 
World — the illuminating and vivifying principle." 

32 "Knowledge distinguishes civilized from savage life. 
Its cultivation in youth promotes virtue, by creating habits of 
mental discipline ; and by inculcating a sense of moral obli- 
gation. Knowledge is, therefore, the best foundation of hap- 
piness." Blair. 

33 "Then, (says Professor Waterhouse, alluding to the 
invention of the art of printing) did knowledge raise weep- 
ing humanity from the dust, and with her blazing torch, point 
the way to happiness and peace." 

34 Dr. Darwin very properly, calls the "PRINTING 
PRESS the most useful of modern inventions ; the capacious 
reservoir of human knowledge, whose branching streams 
diffuse sciences, arts and morality, through all nations and 
ages." 

35 " 'Tis the prolific Press ; whose tablet, fraught 
By graphic Genius with his painted thought, 
Flings forth by millions, the prodigious birth, 
And in a moment stocks the astonished earth." 

Bcwloitfs Columbiad. 
J. T. 

SECTION II. 
A serious Address to the rising Generation of the United 

States. 
Favored Youth, 

1 Contemplate calmly and attentively the sacred legacy 
which must soon be committed to your charge, in trust for 
your successors — and eventually for the whole human race ! 
You constitute the only insulated Ararat, on which the olive 
branch of peace, and the "glad tidings" of freedom and 
happiness, can be deposited and preserved to a groaning 
world drowned in tears ! ! 

2 Prove yourselves, then, deserving of the exalted office 
which Providence has assigned you. To do this, it is indis- 
pensable that you cultivate your understandings, and store 
them with the treasures of knowledge and wisdom. Where 
these exist, tyranny disappears as darkness in presence of 
sun beams, Consider, also, that these will preserve you from 



19 

the still more odious and destructive despotism of ignorance 
and vice. 

3 Wisdom and virtue are the offspring of knowledge. 
" Take fast hold of instruction ; let her not go ; keep her, for 
she is thy life." " Human happiness is founded upon wisdom 
and virtue." It is an immutable and universal rule, inter- 
woven with your existence, that respectability, self-approba- 
tion and happiness, are the natural and invariable conse- 
quences of virtue ; and disgrace, remorse and misery, of vice. 

4 Therefore exert yourselves without delay, to secure the 
means of enlightening your understandings with instruction, 
during the season allotted to that purpose by your Creator. 
Form yourselves into societies in your respective neighbor- 
hoods, and establish free circulating Libraries, by 
means of subscriptions, and contributions of books. 

5 I am not inclined to advise you to restrain yourselves 
from a rational indulgence in innocent amusements, but fail 
not, if you prefer genuine happiness to misery and repent- 
ance, to devote the most of your evenings and leisure hours 
to mental improvement and reading. Let your choice of 
books be directed chiefly to works on practical piety, morals, 
natural philosophy, natural histoiy, geography and astro- 
nomy, history and biography. 

6 But beware of the syren lure of novels, plays, and 
romances. Is not a beautiful garden, in a state of living 
verdure, and native bloom, both more entertaining and use- 
ful, than a heap of counterfeit artificial flowers, composed 
of paper, blackened with ink ? The fascinating habit of read- 
ing novels, &c. not only injures the health, by incessant, 
unseasonable night-reading, but, with a very few exceptions^ 
inflames the imagination, and fits the mind for a world of 
fiction and romance, instead of a world of realities, and im- 
pairs the relish for plain solid instruction. 

7 If you can first prevail on yourselves to taste the salutary 
sweets of authentic biography, history, travels, &c. you 
will ever after, with rare exceptions, view a novel with in- 
difference, if not with disgust. 

8 Let your library, and your reading, commence with 
the following books : The Looking Glass for the mind ; the 
Newtonian System of Philosophy, explained; Burton's 
Lectures to young ladies ; Mayo's Abridgment of Natural 
History ; Blair's Grammar of Chemistry ; Book of Nature ; 
Blair's Sermons ; Stretch's Beauties of History ; History of 
Sanford and Merfcon ; Morse's Universal Geography ; Blair's 



20 
Universal Preceptor ; Lord Mayor of London's Advice to 
Apprentices ; Spectator ; Tatler ; Rambler ; V. Knox's Es- 
says; Rogers' Biographical Dictionary; Ramsay's History 
of the American Revolution, of the United States, Universal 
History, and Life of Washington ; Franklin's Works ; 
Bingley's Useful Knowledge ; Sampson's Brief Remarker ; 
Catechism of Health, by Dr. Faust ; and Dr. Armstrong's 
Art of preserving Health. 

9 The youth not already trained to depravity, that can 
read merely these few books, without being fascinated with 
the pleasures of science, wisdom, virtue, benevolence, and 
moral rectitude, must be a prodigy of stupidity and worth- 
lessness. 

10 And, here, after having endeavored to demonstrate to 
you the advantages of knowledge and mental improvement, 
I should consider it a neglect of duty, to omit cautioning you' 
against excessive reading and study ; which are but little less 
pernicious to health, than other kinds of intemperance. 

11 Never more than eight hours, daily, should be, habit- 
ually, devoted to study, or any inactive employment ; nor 
less than three to exercise, either at labor, riding, walking, 
or active, but moderate recreation. It would undoubtedly 
promote the literary progress, as well as the health of stu- 
dents of academies, colleges, &e. to require them to labor two 
or three hours daily, either on a farm, in a garden, or 
mechanical work shop. 

12 Such a discipline ought to be introduced, not only for 
the purpose of preserving health and invigorating the consti- 
tution, but also of qualifying students, destined for whatever 
profession, for some kind of productive industry, if their in- 
clination or condition should, in the course of life, 'require it.* 

1 3 Except for medical purposes, taste not distilled spirits 
at all. It is a poisonous enemy to human life, in proportion 
to the quantity drank, whether temperately or intemperately. 

14 It is to you, ye young sons and daughters of Columbia, 
ye who are yet innocent, who are yet free from the snares of 

* The studious, the contemplative, the valetudinary and those of weak 
nerves — if they aim at health and long life, must make exercise in a good 
air, a part of their religion. — (Cheyne on Long Life.) — The late Dr. 
Wistar recommended walking at least six miles, every 24 hours, as the 
most effectual restorative to a debilitated constitution, and the effect is 
still more certain as a preservative. Having, myself, been severely in- 
jured by excessive study, as well as by excessive exercise, my sentiments 
are the result of experience, of the pernicious effects of both. 



21 

wrong habits, that I direct my hopes of a radical reforma- 
tion of morals. 

15 Accept these counsels of your sincere friend. Obey 
them with fidelity, and peace, contentment, good will, and 
gladness, shall be the companions of your lives. J. T. 



CHAPTER 2. 

ESSAYS ON THE USE OF INTOXICATING LIQUORS. 

SECTION I. 
Public calamities produced by Intemperance. 

1 THE following Report of the Moral Society of Port- 
land, is a correct miniature of the blackest cloud, probably, 
that now desolates and threatens ultimate destruction to the 
only political family on the Globe, which assumes the pre- 
eminent rank of being enlightened, virtuous and free. 

2 " From a report of an association in Portland, called the 
Moral Society, it appears that out of 85 persons subject to 
the public charity in that place, 71 had become so from their 
intemperance: and that out of 118 supplied at their own 
houses by the town, more than half are of that description. 
The expenses of the town in its charities exceed 6000 dollars, 
and more than two thirds of that sum went to support such 
persons as were made poor by their vices. Of consequence, 
7000 persons are taxed 4000 dollars for the vices of their 
neighbors. 

3 " From these well known facts the report proceeds to 
calculate almost half a million of dollars paid in the same 
way in this state only, and if in the same proportion in the 
United States, the whole amount must be millions. We all 
inquire what can be done. We cannot take away personal 
liberty. We cannot prohibit spirituous liquors. We cannot 
punish persons not convicted of any breach of the laws. We 
cannot distinguish in the business of life, because the rich are 
sometimes as blame-worthy as their less wealthy neighbors. 

4 u We can say that when any persons are committed to 
the public charity, they shall be properly guarded against 
temptations. That their habits shall be considered, and all 
restraints which can consist with health, shall be laid. We 
might hope that some laws of education and life might obtain. 
But as no love of fame, no great talents, or public trust, can 



22 

be said to have been sufficient to prevent men and nations 
from the guilt and the shame of intemperance, we have a 
right in the administration of charity, to regard not only the 
health and hopes of the sufferers, but the safety and the 
economy of civil society." 

5 One of the principal funnels to the insatiable vortex of 
intemperance, is the generally prevailing popular error, that 
the temperate use of ardent spirits, is innocent, and even 
healthful and necessary. 

6 It is gratifying and encouraging to see the several agri- 
cultural societies, commence their labors with a bold attack 
upan this noxious deep-rooted weed. 

7 Extract from the Anniversary Address of J. Le Ray 
de Chaumont, Esq. President of the Jefferson county 
Agricultural Society : 

" Gentlemen of the Society : 
" I do not know a more laudable end our society could have 
in view than that of preventing the use of ardent spirits. I 
wish I could without tiring the patience of my audience, re- 
present here all their pernicious effects upon the human mind 
and body. Poverty and ruin, crimes and infamy, diseases and 
death, would be found the leading features in this woful 
detail. 

8 " Every reflecting man is sensible of the infinite advan- 
tages which would result in favor of humanity and of mo- 
rality, if some efficient plan were devised for preventing the 
too general use of spirituous liquors. To those who believe, 
that they increase the strength, and fortify the body against 
fatigue and hardship, I would oppose the opinion of many 
observing and experienced men, particularly the celebrated 
General Moreau, who asserts, that from long experience 
in his array, he has found, that those soldiers who abstained 
entirely from the use of ardent spirits, and used altogether 
water, beer, or such simple drinks, were not only more 
healthy, but much stronger, could endure greater fatigue, 
were much more moral ; more obedient to orders y and in a 
word much better soldiers. 

9 " If, then, spirituous liquors are really so injurious to 
the health and morals of men, what reason can be alleged for 
continuing the use of them, and who will be their advocate ?" 

10 It is surprising that the Government of our Republic, 
should annoy the army with a more pitiless enemy than any 
human foe of the civilized world, by constituting whisky 
an article of dailv distribution to the soldiers. 



23 

1 1 The following extract from the address delivered re- 
cently at the meeting for organizing an agricultural society 
in the county of Saratoga, by Doct. Billy J. Clark, contains 
several moral and political truths, which deserve the serious 
consideration of every American citizen : 

12 " For us as Americans, who boast the republican sim- 
plicity of our habits and our manners, there is, in the cata- 
logue of our expenses, a number of items that require the 
bold and decisive use of the amputating knife: Amongst 
these, are the extravagant and almost daily use of many lux- 
uries, the epidemic mania of following the fashions of the day, 
through all their* various changes, and those too, so plausibly 
imposed on us, as the latest importations from the nurseries 
and hot-beds of monarchy and dissipation. 

13 " The occasional and habitual use of ardent spirits, the 
unnecessary use of which costs the inhabitants of this coun- 
ty several thousand dollars in a /ear, imperiously calls for 
immediate retrenchment. The train of evils that grow out 
of its habitual use, are too well known to require a descrip- 
tion from me at this time. 

14 " The laborer's plea of necessity, the plea of the man 
of business and of pleasure, of innocence, in its temperate 
indulgence, are equally futile, and unfounded in truth. 

15 " Let us then reflect on the dire consequences that 
have resulted to individuals, to families, and to communities, 
and those of us at least, who can bcfast exemption from the 
iron grasp of habitual tyranny, from the organization of this 
society, firmly resolve to abandon its use, not only from a 
regard to our own individual benefit, but from a considera- 
tion of the advantages that our children will derive from our 
example. " 

16 The following extract of a report of one of the Massa- 
chusetts Societies for the suppression of intemperance and 
other vices, is inserted here, in the hope that their honorable 
example may be imitated as far as it may circulate, by every 
agricultural and moral society, and farmer, and manufacturer. 

17 " To abolish the custom of giving stated potations of 
ardent spirits to hired laborers, which has been a prolific 
source of intemperate habits, the members of this association 
have agreed not to furnish to the men they employ, a daily 
allowance of spirit; nor to give it, except in cases of particu- 
lar necessity. We have the pleasure to state, that no difficul- 
ty, to our knowledge, has arisen on this account in procuring 
faithful laborers. Some, who are not members of the society > 



24 

have adopted the same rule ; and there is good reason to be- 
lieve, that the pernicious custom is gradually wearing away, 
and will eventually become entirely obsolete." 

18 Extract from Darwin' ] s Zoonomia, Sec. 30. "When 
the expediency of laying a further tax on the distillation of 
spirituous liquors from grain was canvassed before the House 
of Commons some years ago, it was said of the distillers, with 
great truths ' they take the BREAD from the people and 
convert it into POISON P Yet is this manufactory of dis- 
ease permitted to continue, as appears by its paying into the 
treasury above ;£900,000,* near a million of money annual- 
ly. — And thus, under the names of rum, brandy, gin, whisky, 
usquebaugh, wine, cider, beer, and porter, alcohol is become 
the bane of the Christian world, as opium of the Mahometan. 

19 "I shall conclude this section on the diseases of the 
liver, induced by spirituous liquors, with the well known 
story of Prometheus, whfch seems indeed to have been in- 
vented by physicians in those ancient times, when all things 
were clothed in hieroglyphic, or fable. Prometheus was 
painted as stealing fire from Heaven, which might well re- 
present the inflammable spirit, produced by fermentation ; 
which may be said to animate or enliven the man of clay : 
whence the conquests of Bacchus, as well as the temporary 
mirth and noise of his devotees. But the after punishment 
of those who steal this accursed fire> is a vulture gnawing 
the liver : and well allegorizes the poor inebriate, [drunk- 
ard,] lingering for years under painful hepatic [liver] dis- 
eases." 

20 But it is almost as useless to expostulate with veterans 
in the ranks of Bacchus, as with those who are confident that 
they are under the power of witchcraft. This fact is well 
illustrated by the reply of a boozy tippler to a Friend, who 
was representing to him the terrible consequences of intem- 
perance, u I have no doubt, said he, but that all you say is 
true, but you might as well sing psalms to a dead horse as 
to talk to me." 

21 Yet let us not forget that these unfortunate victims of 
their own weakness and imprudence are still men, and claim 
our sympathy and commiseration for their want of discre- 
tion. And if warnings and entreaties will not prevail, let us 
resort to more efficacious means for their relief as well as for 
the protection of the common interest against the effects of 

* About 4,000,000 dollars. 



25 
their conduct. Reproachful denunciations, however, are not 
only useless, but injurious and uncharitable. 

22 Too often, it is true, men of genius and learning, are 
seen ivhirling, ivith delirious apathy, in the frightful 
vortex of intemperance and destruction; — but much the 
greatest proportion of the cases of mental debility and dis- 
ease of this kind, must be attributed to the want of proper 
education, and an early taste and opportunity for reading. It 
is lamentable, as well as astonishing, that so few of our citi- 
zens have granted this subject its lawful weight either in the 
scales of policy, morality, physics, or religion. It has been 
too long treated with levity and scorn. 

23 Is there an individual who is not now affected, more or 
less, in some shape or other, from the immense deficit in the 
national wealth, occasioned by the appropriation of 20,000,000 
dollars annually, during the last twenty years, to a threefold 
worse purpose than annihilation ? Twice we have bravely re- 
sisted and spurned political despotism, and at length we have 
prostrated our necks under the sceptre of king Alcohol, * 

24 With an incredible infatuation, we have sacrificed the 
golden presents of Ceres on the hissing copper altars of 
crazy Bacchus. Were I allowed the privilege of obliterating 
the two greatest scourges of mankind, I would select the art 
of distilling food, and the art of w r ar. 

25 I am not disposed to attach any degree of moral turpi- 
tude, to manufacturers or sellers of ardent spirits ; but it does 
seem to me, that if they would revolve and scrutinize the 
subject in its real genuine character, they would not hesitate 
to renounce an employment which involves in its conse- 
quences, the propagation of so much human misery and 
wretchedness. 

26 A merchant of Virginia, by the name of Sholfield, 
listened to his conscience, and burnt all his distilled liquors 

. publicly on the summit of a mountain. Another in Dela- 
ware, beat in the heads of his rum casks. A respectable 
French gentleman having purchased an estate at Buffalo, 
(N. Y. ) on which was a distilling establishment, demolished it 
immediately on taking possession, saying he " had done one 
good deed." 

21 And it would undoubtedly be a national benefit if nine- 
tenths of the wholesale and retail merchants and distillers in 
America, would adopt "this great and universal truth, that 



* Intoxicating spirit distilled from wine, beer, cider, &c. 



26 

with a pure heart one i$ never unhappy " % and secure to 
themselves the applause of their own consciences, and the 
admiration and gratitude of mankind, by imitating these illus- 
trious examples of heroism in the cause of human happiness. 
Let them consider another equally great and universal in- , 
verse truth, that without a pure heart one is never happy ^ 
with all the lucre that avarice can grasp. 

28 " No man (says Dr. Rush) ever became suddenly a 
drunkard. It is by gradually accustoming the taste and 
stomach to ardent spirits, in the forms of grog and toddy, that 
men have learned to love them in their more destructive 
mixtures, and in their simple state. Under the impression 
of this truth, were it possible for me to speak with a voice 
so loud as to be heard from the river St. Croix, to the re- 
motest shores of the Mississippi, I would say, Friends and 
Fellow Citizens, avoid the use of those two seducing liquors, 
whether they be made with brandy, rum, gin, Jamaica spirits, 
whisky, or what is called cherry bounce. 

29 "It is highly probable not less than 4,000 people die 
annually from the use of ardent spirits, in the United States. 
Should they continue to exert their deadly influence upon 
our population, where will their evils terminate ? The loss 
of 4,000 American citizens by the yellow fever in a single 
year, awakened general sympathy and terror, and called 
forth all the strength and ingenuity of the laws to prevent 
its recurrence. 

30 " Why is not the same zeal manifested in protecting 
our citizens from the more general and consuming ravages 
of distilled spirits ? Let good men of every class unite and 
besiege the general and state governments with petitions to 
limit the number of taverns ; to impose heavy duties upon 
ardent spirits, " &c. 

31 Another writer who has given a lively picture of the 
devastations of distilled liquors, says, " let men who wish 
well to their country, unite in petitions to government, to 
impose still heavier duties upon imported spirits, and our 
<*vn distillers ; and to regulate taverns and retailers of spirits ; 
and secure the property of habitual drunkards, for the benefit 
of their families. " 

32 It is the more indispensable to obtain the sentiments 
of the people at large, on this momentous question, in the 
manner here proposed, on account of an erroneous prejudice 

* Camot. 



27 

indulged by some law-makers, that legislative restrictions 
upon the manufacture, sale, and consumption of spirituous 
liquors, would violate the civil rights of the people, and 
excite disaffection and rebellion. With respect to the former 
objection, the fact is precisely the reverse. 

33 The citizen who squanders his property, or his time 
and health in dissipation, and, consequently, exposes him- 
self or a family to suffer for the necessaries of life, unless 
relieved by his neighbors or the public, violates the civil 
rights of, and his own moral and political obligations to, 
society. And there is no doubt that taxes on spirits will, 
generally, be cheerfully paid by the consumer, when he is 
assured that the revenue is to be applied to the education of 
his children, or, perhaps, ultimately, to his own support. 

34 The probability is, that a more formidable resistance 
will spring from importers, manufacturers, and venders of 
ardent spirits, than from the consumers. But it must be a 
very unwise and unsound policy that permits the general 
good to be sacrificed to individual gain. 

35 Let the question, therefore, be fairly submitted to the 
people at large, who are the legitimate sovereigns of the 
land. The case demands the concurrent perseverance of all 
who possess the least sympathy for the sufferings and woes of 
their fellow men ; and the very sufferers are not so iiiuiffer- 
ent as has been generally supposed. Many have addressed 
their supreme Parent with supplications to rescue and pro- 
tect them from the' fascinating charm and twining gripe, 
with which that cunning serpent, Alcohol, inveigles its prey. 

36 And they are not wholly averse to coercive means of 
relief. Several have sought their emancipation in oaths of 
abstinence for a given term. Some have offered premiums 
for a remedy to the habit of drinking ; and one individual of 
this description declared to the writer of these essays, that he 
" wished government would impose a tax upon whisky of 

Jive dollars a gallon, and then he should stop drinking it." 

37 So that the business at length resolves itself into these 
great moral and political problems — Whether the gene- 
ral GOOD SHALL BE SACRIFICED TO INDIVIDUAL GAIN? 

Whether distilled spirits ought and shall not be 

HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR ITS DEPREDATIONS ON THE SOLID 
CAPITAL STOCK OF WEALTH IN OUR COUNTRY? Whether 

both imported and domestic spirits shall not be forthwith 
taxed to an amr tint sufficient to provide for the support 
mid instruction of its unhappy victims? J. T, 



28 



SECTION II. 



The habitual temperate use of Spirituous Liquors, a 
violation of moral purity and religious duty. 

1 So far as it is in our power to understand the designs 
and laws of our Creator, for the regulation of our conduct, it 
is both our duty and interest to yield perfect compliance. 
The preservation of health and life is unquestionably one of 
our most palpable and explicit duties. Every act, therefore, 
which impairs our health and diminishes the period of our 
lives, is a violation of the express command of God. 

2 I shall endeavor to demonstrate, by physiological facts, 
that both these effects are produced, more or less, by the 
habitual application of distilled spirits to the stomach, in 
whatever quantity. Composed of very inflammable mate- 
rials, in a disengaged state, it commences a kind of smothered 
combustion instantaneously on its reception into the stomach ; 
corrodes the organs of digestion, excites an unnatural heat 
and violent circulation of the blood ; attended with delirium, 
and succeeded by a loss of strength, proportioned to the ex- 
cess of excitement produced by the irritating agent. Several 
other poisons produce similar effects. 

3 It is an infallible axiom in the physical organization of 
man, that every excitement of his vital powers beyond the 
point to which his Creator has adapted him, which is the 
uniform effect of alcohol, diminishes his capacity for repeat- 
ing like motions from like means. Hence it may be safely 
inferred, that every dram of spirituous liquors of any 
description, is a check upon the capital stock of strength 
and life, and hastens the approach of the hour of dissolu- 
tion, in proportion to the indulgence. 

4 Let the habitual dram drinker, who is or may be the 
head of a family, reflect, at the same time, that he runs the 
awful hazard of transmitting the most horrible torturing he- 
reditary distempers to his defenceless progeny, for ages to 
come. Each dram increases the appetite for another, and 
the necessity of an increased quantity, to produce an equal 
effect, multiplies in a progressive ratio. Thus it follows, 
unavoidably, that the habitual temperate use of ardent 
spirits is a pernicious and vicious practice. 

5 Besides its consumption of vital power, it will be found 
an unjustifiable and immoral habit in another point of view. 
It is a wanton waste of property, which ought to be preserved 



29 

for useful purposes, even by those who possess it, in ever so 
great profusion. Whoever swallows two gills of distilled 
spirits daily, destroys 20 bushels of rye a year ; for the want 
of which some of his own posterity may eventually starve. 
6 In this way, it has been estimated by a late writer, thai 
the people of the United States, destroy thirty millions of dol- 
lars annually. Considering this, and the many other useless 
and superfluous modes of diminishing the common stock of 
national wealth, there is no reason to be surprised to hear 
the present universal re-echo of "hard times," "dull 
times" "scarcity of money," "sales by execution" 
"difficulty of collecting debts," "insolvencies," "pau- 
perism," fyc. Sfc. J. T. 

SECTION III. 
Speech of the Little Turtle, an Indian Chief 

1 The following specimen of Indian wisdom and pathetic 
eloquence, was addressed to a committee appointed by the 
Society of Friends, "For Promoting the Improvement and 
Civilization of the Indian Natives," at Baltimore, in 1802. It 
presents a striking mirror to the contemplation of their 
white brethren. The example of the red chiefs of the 
forest, and the black chiefs of Hayti, in excluding "the poi- 
son of the moral world"* from their people, deserves ap- 
probation and imitation. 

-2 " Brothers and Friends, — When our forefathers first 
met on this island, your red brethren were very numerous. 
But since the introduction amongst us of what you call spirit- 
uous liquors, and what we think may be justly called poison, 
our numbers are greatly diminished. It has destroyed a 
great part of your red brethren. 

3 " My Brothers and Friends, — We plainly perceive, 
that you see the very evil which destroys your red brethren ; 
it is not an evil of our own making; we have not placed it 
amongst ourselves ; it is an evil placed amongst us by the 
white people ; we look to them to remove it out of our 
country. We tell them, — brethren, fetch us useful things ; 
bring goods that will clothe us, our women and our children, 
and not this evil liquor that destroys our reason, that destroys 
our health, that destroys our lives. But all we can say on this 
subject is of no service, nor gives relief to your red brethren. 

* Dr. Mitchill. 

C2 



30 

4 "My Brothers and Friends, — I rejoice to find that 
you agree in opinion with us, and express an anxiety to be, if 
possible, of service to us in removing this great evil out of 
our country ; an evil which has had so much room in it, and 
has destroyed so many of our lives, that it causes our young 
men to say, ' we had better be at war with the white people ; 
this liquor which they introduce into our country, is more 
to be feared than the gun and the tomahawk. There are 
more of us dead since the treaty of Greenville, than we lost 
by the six years' war before. It is all owing to the intro- 
duction of this liquor amongst us.' 

5 * Brothers, — When our young men have been out hunt- 
ing, and are returning home loaded with skins and furs, on 
their way, if it happens that they come along where some of 
this whisky is deposited, the white man who sells it, tells 
them to take a little drink ; some of them will say no, I do 
not want it ; they go on till they come to another house, 
where they find more of the same kind of drink ; it is there 
offered again ; they refuse ; and again the third time ; but 
finally, the fourth or fifth time, one accepts of it, and takes 
a drink, and getting one, he wants another ; and then a third 
and fourth, till his senses have left him. 

6 " After his reason comes back again to him, when he 
gets up and finds where he is, he asks for his peltry ; the an- 
swer is, * you have drank them f where is my gun ? ' it is 
gone ;' where is my blanket ? ' it is gone ;' where is my 
shirt? 'you have sold it for whisky! !' ' Now, Brothers, 
figure to yourselves what condition this man must be in. He 
has a family at home, a wife and children who stand in need 
of the profits of his hunting. What must be their wants, 
when he himself is even without a shirt ?" 



CHAPTER 3. 

ESSAYS. ON POLITICAL AND DOMESTIC ECONOMT. 

SECTION I. 

^Desultory observations on Moral Reformation and 
National Economy. 

1 TO attack ancient and favorite habits and prejudices, is 
not a very encouraging or agreeable undertaking. While 
error is venerated for its antiquity, truth is discarded for its 
novelty.. But there is great consolation in the consciousness 



31 
of having done our best to benefit our fellow men, even if 
our good offices are not kindly received, or duly appreciated. 

2 "Let it be remembered, " says the author of the Friend 
of Peace, in his reasons for believing that efforts for the aboli- 
tion of war will not be in vain, "that the charge of a chi- 
merical project, or < Utopian scheme,' has been uniformly 
made against the first efforts for the abolition of any popu- 
lar custom ; yet many such attempts have succeeded, to the 
astonishment and joy of those who once regarded them as 
fit subjects of ridicule. " 

3 In a letter of Doctor Rush, to George Clymer, Esq. "on 
the amusements and punishments proper for schools," he 
says, "I know how apt mankind are to brand every propo 
sition for innovation, as visionary and Utopian ; but good 
men should not be discouraged by such epithets, from their 
attempts to combat vice and error." 

4 After noticing many of the most valuable discoveries 
and improvements for meliorating the condition of man, 
which have been denounced as Utopian projects, he con- 
cludes his letter, with an anecdote of a minister in London, 
who, after employing a long sermon, in controverting what 
he supposed to be an heretioal opinion, concluded it with 
the following words : "I tell you, I tell you, my brethren, 
I tell you again, that an old error is better than a new truth, " 

5 "We ought not to shrink from the investigation of truth, 
however unpopular, nor conceal it, whatever the profession 
of it may cost Though exertions of this sort are sometimes 
imputed to unworthy motives, and disinterested attempts to 
serve the best interests of humanity, are frequently reward- 
ed with insult and reproach, we ought to reflect that this is 
the treatment which the advocates of truth have met wi Ji 
in almost every age."* 

6 As it is our design to promote the prosperity of socie y 
in the aggregate, it is hoped that individuals, whose occupa- 
tions depend on those popular follies which we shall endes v- 
or to exterminate, will not be offended at the course which, a 
sense of duty impels us to pursue. "It will be impossible 
to do much good without some persons accounting themselves 
injured by what you do. You will unavoidably serve soiiie 
interests to which others are inimical."! 

T^We cannot subscribe to the doctrine of Goldsmith, that 

* Gov. Miller's Message to the Legislature of North Carolina, in 1815 
J- Essays to do Good. 



32 

luxury and fanciful fashions are beneficial, upon a general 
scale, because they multiply employment for the laboring 
classes of society. The rational wants of mankind are suffi- 
ciently numerous to employ the industry and ingenuity of 
all who are able and willing to labor. 

8 To scrutinize and determine the propriety or impro- 
priety of ideas and habits acquired from precept or exam- 
ple in early life, (when their correctness is not called in 
question,) we need the faculty of divesting ourselves from 
the influence of previous impressions, and of viewing things 
with which we have been long familiarized, as though they 
were newly presented to our senses. 

9 Regardless of the shafts of wit or resentment, or the im- 
putation of eccentricity, we shall endeavor to exhibit a faith- 
ful chart of the mistakes and eccentricities of society. 

10 The most universal, mischievous, expensive, and in- 
excusable customs of the present age of luxury and extrava- 
gance, are those of adopting sugar, tea and coffee, ardent 
spirits and tobacco, as articles of daily consumption. These 
insatiable, but fashionable leeches to the public wealth, and 
canker-worms to health and life, ought to be extirpated, if it 
were for no other reason than their enormous expense, but 
still more for their deleterious effects. 

1 1 The habitual free use of sugar, has been justly con- 
demned, as injurious to health, by Locke, Buchan, Willich, 
and others. It is employed to disguise the taste of several 
other pernicious articles ; as tea, coffee, distilled spirits, &c. 
until the reluctant appetite is perverted and reconciled to 
their daily use. The mischief of coffee and tea is increased 
by the hot water in which they are drank. Coffee, though 
a useful medicine, if drank constantly, will at length induce 
a decay of health and hectic fever. * 

12 Tea possesses an acrid astringent quality, peculiar to 
most leaves and exterior bark of trees, and corrodes and para- 
lyzes the nerves. Is nature so partial that she has denied 
the American continent a single product fit for an infusion at 
our tables ? Is it fashion, or depraved appetite, or both, that 
induces nearly all the inhabitants of America, to drink China 
tea and West India coffee, in preference to the far more 
nutritious and salubrious drinks, which may be prepared 
from the various farinaceous seeds, milk, and other materials 
of domestic production ? 

* See Dr. Willich's Art of preserving Health and prolonging Life. 



13 We have late accounts from China, that in the course 
of six months American ships alone deposited in Canton the 
enormous sum of five millions of dollars ! Deluded Ameri- 
cans ! Boasters of patriotism, liberty, virtue and indepen- 
dence ! Will you remain politically and intellectually blind, 
until your last silver dollar is shipped to China for. tea; and 
your last bushel of wheat to the West Indies for coffee, rum 
and sugar ? 

14 What avails the heroism, the sacrifice of blood and 
treasure, and the indescribable sufferings of your fathers in 
resisting British compulsion, while you voluntarily bestow 
ten fold more tribute upon foreign nations than a monarch 
would demand ?* 

15 " When navigation is employed only for transporting 
necessary provisions from one country, where they abound, 
to another where they are wanting ; when by this it prevents 
famines, which were so frequent and so fatal before it was 
invented and became so common ; we cannot help consider- 
ing it as one of those arts which contribute most to the hap- 
piness of mankind. 

16 "But when it is employed to transport things of no 
utility, or articles merely of luxury, it is then uncertain 
whether the advantages resulting from it are sufficient to 
counterbalance the misfortunes it occasions, by exposing the 
Kves of so many individuals upon the vast ocean. And 
when it is used to plunder* vessels and transport slaves, it is 

* In the present crisis of general embarrassment [1823] in the United 
States, the considerations of patriotism dictate the universal renunciation 
of the use of tea and other foreign luxuries, as imperiously as at the com- 
mencement of the Revolution. Some respectable families have already 
commenced a reformation in this respect. The example upon an exten- 
sive scale, first mentioned, and to a limited extent, of a number of families 
in England, who were prevailed on by the influence and eloquence of 
Wesley, to abstain from the use of tea, chiefly for the laudable purposes 
of devoting the savings to the relief of the poor, is a sufficient demonstra- 
tion of the safety of rejecting the habit of tea drinking, as it respects 
health. The inconvenience was of short duration, and succeeded by an 
improved state of health, in the cases related by Wesley. The sudden 
and total disuse of tea, by persons far advanced in life, might produce 
more injury than benefit to them, as is apt to be the case in the confirmed 
habit of taking any narcotic, or unnatural stimulant, such as tobacco, 
opium, spirits, &c. But there is no question of the propriety and duty 
of rescuing the rising generation entirely from the injurious and costly 
custom of swallowing, annually, during life, three hundred and sixty-five 
quarts each of scalding tea, which is well known to anticipate the effects 
of time, in withering the blooming cheek of youth. 



34 

evidently only the dreadful means of increasing those calam- 
ities which afflict human nature. 

17 " One is astonished to think on the number of vessels 
and men who are daily exposed in going to bring tea from 
China, coffee from Arabia, and sugar and tobacco from Ame- 
rica; all commodities which our ancestors lived very well 
without. The sugar trade employs nearly a thousand vessels, 
and that of tobacco almost the same number. 

18 " With regard to the utility of tobacco, little can be said ; 
and, with regard to sugar, how much more meritorious would 
it be to sacrifice the momentary pleasure which we receive 
from drinking it once or twice a day in our tea, than to en- 
courage the numberless cruelties that are continually exer- 
cised in order to procure it us?'-* 

19 How is our country to be supplied with those imagina- 
ry necessaries of life, (which, however, are converted into 
real ones by habit,) when it becomes as populous as China? 
Where shall we find the requisite quantity of silver to pur- 
chase tea for three hundred millions of people, and pay for 
its transportation from the opposite side of the globe ?t 

20 The increasing habit of chewing, smoking and snuffing 
tobacco, is too mischievous a trespasser on the public health 
and wealth, to be excused from an examination at the bar of 
reason. We shall riot refuse tobacco the credit of being 
sometimes medical, when used temperately, though an ac- 
knowledged poison. 

21 While it relieves some diseases, it aggravates others; 
and is both unnecessary and pernicious to persons in health, 
especially to youth. Chewing tobacco is almost, uniformly 
injurious. Constantly exciting a discharge from the salivary 
glands, it exhausts the body of one of its most important 
iluids; produces obstinate chronic diseases; weakens the 
organs of digestion, and shortens the term of vital excitability 
arid life. 

22 Young persons ought to be prevented from contracting 
a habit, which is so very reprehensible, both for its waste of 
vital power and property. The same may be said of smoking 
tobacco, except that it is more injurious, because commonly 
practised in greater excess, and in the form of segars, is more 



* Franklin. 

f We go to fetch earth from China, as if we had none ; stuffs, as if we 
were without stuffs ; a small herb to infuse in water, as if our climate did 
not afford any simples. — Volt aire . 



35 

expensive. Snuffing powdered tobacco, when habitual, is 1 
disgusting, like both the other modes of using it, and injures 
the whole nervous system, as well as the sense of smelling. 

J. T. 



SECTION II. 

Desultory observations on Fashion; — Foreign Goods;-— 
Causes and remedy of Pauperism; — Novel Reading ; — 
War. 

1 We shall next commence an attack on a variety of cus- 
toms, originating in mistaken fancy, and belonging to the 
empire of fashion. It is doubtless a rational conjecture, that 
the annual expenditure of society for superfluities and trifling 
habits, is as great as for its reasonable necessities. This is 
a violation of our obligations of duty, both to ourselves, and 
to succeeding generations. 

2 In the wanton dissipation of property, we not only an- 
nihilate the amount of its present specific value, but also its 
multiplying power, for perhaps an infinite space of time. 
Are not the most affluent men, then, inexcusable, in robbing 
their posterity in anticipation, by sacrificing the property i» 
their possession, in vain amusements and fashions ? 

Immense sums are continually wasted by almost all 
classes of both sexes, in superfluities of dress. It will be con- 
ceded that the various fluctuating modes and fashions of our 
attire are adopted with a view to attract and interest the eyes, 
and attention of others, rather than for our own personal con- 
venience or comfort. If we were all to adhere uniformly to 
a simple, convenient, and permanent mode of dress, we 
should soon all be contented. 

4 The greatest mischief, probably, which results from 
frequent and expensive changes in the fashion of our cos- 
tume, is to be found in the unconquerable desire of people 
of but little or no property to exhibit (especially when 
absent from home) a similar appearance to their wealthier 
neighbors. 

5 The custom which enjoins it on the relatives of every 
deceased person, to incur an extra expense in the purchase 
of garments of a particular color, as a token of respect and 
mourning, is peculiarly oppressive to the middle and poorer 
classes of society. This is a delicate subject, and the writer 



3t> 
would prefer passing it by, if a sense of duty did not impel 
him to mention it. 

6 It is worthy of the reflection of the wealthy and influ- 
ential, whose example is law, whether the abolition of this 
custom of tradition might not be compatible with true benev-^ 
olence and charity. Respectable philanthropic associations 
(not alluding to the religious society whose discipline forbids 
external signals of mourning) have adopted resolutions for 
this purpose. 

7 The reverend and venerable author* of the celebrated 
essays published in the Connecticut Courant, under the title 
of " The Brief Remarker," recommends, very earnestly, in 
one of those essays, the suppression of a custom which he 
considers not only unnecessary, and embarrassing to the 
poor, but also burdensome to the merchants in particular, 
who are often prevented by sympathy and delicacy, from 
refusing a credit to afflicted though indigent applicants foi 
the means of imitating their more fortunate neighbors, in the 
display of the customary tokens of grief.t 

8 It is a great duty which parents owe their children, 
to restrict the gratification of their fancy and passions to 
rational limits. We shall omit to particularize the super- 
fluities of female apparel ; if desirable, there will be no diffi- 
culty in finding much room for retrenchment. It would be 

criminal, however, to neglect this opportunity of condemning, 
without reservation, the odious, disgusting, sacrilegious, and 
suicidal practice of deforming the natural perfection of the 
human fabric with CORSETS and STAYS. 

9 Incalculable sums are uselessly expended for the orna- 
mental appearance of our dwelling houses, churches, tomb- 
stones, carriages, equipage for horses, and domestic furniture. 

10 The wealth which has been vainly, if not wickedly, 
squandered in the magnificence of meeting houses and their 
lofty steeples, would be sufficient for the establishment of 
perpetual free schools, and free libraries for the instruction 



* Mr. Sampson. 

f Since writing* these remarks the author has met with the following' 
seasonable and practical corroboration of his sentiments, in a newspaper : 

" Mourning Dresses. — A writer in the Boston Recorder condemns 
the practice of wearing mourning at funerals as being unnecessary, be- 
cause by no means indicative of true grief, and as being an oppressive 
burthen to the poor. He recently deviated from this custom in the case 
of a deceased individual of his family, and transmitted ten dollars, to the 
American Education Society as a part of the sum saved." 



37 

of all" the poor children in the United States. And which 
would best advance the cause of virtue and happiness, and 
promote the glory of God ? Let a reverse experiment solve 
this problem. 

1 1 Who can contemplate, without painful regret, the vast 
quantity of silver and labor which are thrown away never 
to be recovered, in order to display a few white shining 
spots, on our carriages, harnesses, saddles and bridles ? The 
superfluities of house furniture are numerous, and generally 
so conspicuous that it is only necessary to invite reflection on 
their impropriety. The gilding and ornamental work of 
looking-glasses and picture frames, books, chairs, &c. are ex- 
pensive offerings to those idols, Fancy and Fashion. 

12 " The poets who are ever apt to be seduced by appear- 
ances, and do not consider themselves bound to be wiser 
than politicians and men of business, have been loud in the 
praise of luxury ; and the rich have not been backward in 
adopting principles, that exalt their ostentation into a virtue, 
and their self-gratification into beneficence. 

13" This prejudice, however, must vanish, as the increas- 
ing knowledge of political economy begins to reveal the real 
sources of wealth, the means of production, and the effect of 
consumption. Vanity may take pride in idle expense, but 
will ever be held in no less contempt by the wise, on ac- 
count of its pernicious effects, than it has been all along for 
the motives by which it is actuated. 

14 " These conclusions of theory have been confirmed by 
experience. Misery is the inseparable companion of luxu- 
ry. The man of wealth and ostentation squanders upon cost- 
ly trinkets, sumptuous repasts, magnificent mansions, dogs, 
horses, &c. a portion of value, which, vested in productive 
occupation, would enable a multitude of willing laborers, 
whom his extravagance now consigns to idleness and mise- 
ry, to provide themselves with warm clothing, nourishing 
food, and household conveniencies. The gold buckles of the 
rich man leaves the poor one without shoes to his feet ; and 
the laborer will want a shirt to his back, while his rich 
neighbor glitters in velvet and embroidery."* 

1 5 The whole country is drained every spring and autumn, 
of a large portion of its cash and most valuable productions, 
to pay for foreign commodities ; a great proportion of which 
might be dispensed with, or manufactured among ourselves. 

* Say's Political Economy. 



38 

16 An unbridled hankering after something far fetched 
and dear bought ', gay to the eye and pleasing to the tongue, 
is equally ruinous to a nation as to a private family. The 
nation, or family, that buys more than it sells, that exchanges 
articles of solid value for articles of fancy, that imports more 
than it exports, must eventually suffer severe embarrassment 
from deficiency of money and the common stock of wealth. 

17 The following extract from Memoirs of the Life of 
Benjamin Lay, written by Roberts Vaux, is prophetically il- 
lustrative of this subject : Mr. Vaux describes the labors 
of Lay as one of the earliest and principal projectors of the 
Abolition of the Slave Trade and Slavery, and of the sub- 
stitution of State Prisons for the Gallows ; and thus intro- 
duces his sentiments on the great political error of sending 
away " good things" for evil things : — 

18 "With the same enlightened zeal, he pointed out the 
pernicious consequences which would result from the intro- 
duction of foreign spirits into this country. He declared that 
the general introduction of them would corrupt and degrade 
any people, and that there was danger, if they could be easi- 
ly and cheaply procured, of their becoming the habitual 
beverage of the inhabitants. 

19 "He introduces the subject in considering the trade 
which at that day was extensively carried on with the West 
Indies ; and says, ' We send away our excellent provisions 
and other good things, to purchase such filthy stuff, which 
tends to the corruption of mankind, and they send us some 
of their worst slaves, when they cannot rule them them- 
selves, along with tfreir rum to complete the tragedy ; that 
is to say, to destroy the people in Pennsylvania, and ruin 
the country. 5 " 

20 The advice of Governor Galusha, in his late farewell 
speech to the Legislature of Vermont, is excellent, and ap- 
propriate in this place : — " The only safe remedy against em- 
barrassment or poverty, is a retrenchment of family expenses, 
and lessening the consumption of articles of foreign growth 
and manufacture. Much may be done by encouraging home 
manufactures, by legislative provisions ; but the most pow- 
erful of all is that of example. 

21" Let but one influential citizen, from each town in 
this State, return from this Legislature to his constituents, 
with a rigid determination to abandon the unnecessary use 
of foreign articles,' and, while he enjoys all the real comforts 
and actual conveniencies of life, reject every thing that is 



39 

superfluous ; his fellow citizens would soon emulate his ex- 
ample, and exhibit an improved state of society. 

22 " General information is indispensably necessary to the 
preservation of a free republican government ; but this can- 
not be retained, if the great body of the people, through 
want of economy, indulge their propensities in the use of 
superfluities, and become poor and unable to educate their 
children. The patronage of the wealthy, will never be in- 
discriminately extended to the children of the whole com- 
munity. Even that source will diminish where extrava- 
gance prevails." 

23 Citizens of the American Republic ! if I possessed the 
eloquence of Demosthenes, I would address you in your 
cities, and your villages, with my voice instead of my quill ; — 
I would convince you that your enemy,* the conqueror of all 
nations except your own, instead of preparing to march 
against you, has already entered your doors, and is receiving 
your self-betraying caresses, instead of manly resistance. 

24 I would persuade you to rise en masse, from your 
slumber, erect the banners of ECONOMY and PLENTY, 
and exterminate, without quarter, the devouring traitors 
Luxury, Superfluity, and Fashion ; I would persuade you 
to practise, voluntarily , the virtues which Lycurgus enforc- 
ed by the decrees of power ; and which made the Lacede- 
monians the happiest people that history acquaints us with. 

25 He suppressed luxury and extravagance ; he excluded 
superfluous and useless arts, and prevented the introduction 
of foreign merchandise; he discouraged avarice, and yet 
compelled the most perfect economy and simplicity in the 
construction of houses, furniture, &c. 

26 Among the causes of poverty, besides ignorance and 
vice, indolence and intemperance, the want of steady em- 
ployment, to all who are able and willing to labor, is one 
which has not received the consideration of legislators and 
moralists that it deserves. A great proportion of crimes might 
be traced to this cause. Robbery or forgery, is the alterna- 
tive frequently preferred, by persons of weak moral princi • 
pies, to starvation, or the humiliation of beggary. 

21 It is easier to prevent poverty and crimes, by instruc- 
tion and employment, than to relieve and suppress them by 
charity and punishments. There ought to be a public agri- 
cultural and manufacturing institution, in every county, 

* Luxury. 



40 

where poor people who are capable of digging potatoes, turn- 
ing a wheel, or working a loom, or of performing any kind of 
mechanical or other labor, may be employed, and suitably 
rewarded, whenever application shall be made. Schools and 
moral libraries ought to form a department in all such insti- 
tutions. 

28 The expenditure of such enormous sums of money as 
are continually dissipated in play houses, balls, novel read- 
ing, and other idle amusements, is totally unjustifiable ; even 
if health of body and mind were hot at the same time im- 
paired. It is surprising that people of refined taste, should 
be willing to breathe the vitiated air of crowded theatres 
and circuses. 

29 The consummation of human folly and madness is to 
be found in the beastly custom of nominally civilized as 
well as savage nations, of settling their differences, through 
the medium of iron cannon, muskets, swords, bayonets, 
balls, and leaden bullets ; fire and brimstone, salt-petre 
and charcoal ; and human blood, the final product of the 
whole. This method of obtaining justice or injustice, incurs 
%n incalculable sacrifice of wealth and morals, as well as of 
life. 

30 National military establishments swallow up a vast pro- 
portion of the revenues of a country, even in time of peace. 
Is there no alternative ? If not, then let man cease to boast 
his moral superiority to tigers and dogs. ye mad na- 
tions ! retrieve your abused divine legacy, reason ! Com- 
mence your retreat from the horrid game of folly, blood and 
death, simultaneously. 

31 Dismantle all your war ships, frigates, &c, and sink 
m the ocean, or destroy, every engine of human destruction. 
Dismiss your war servants, and abolish military schools. In- 
stitute a perpetual Congress of delegates, from each nation 
respectively, to which all national disputes, not amicably ar- 
ranged by agents of the parties, shall be referred for final 
decision. J* T. 



41 

PART SECOND. 

EPITOME OF THE MORAL PRECEPTS OF THE BIBLE. 
CHAPTER 1. 

SELECTIONS FROM THE OLD TESTAMENT. 

1 EVEN as I have seen, they that plow iniquity, and sow 
wickedness, reap the same. 

2 Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to 
dwell together in unity ! 

3 The Lord is good to all : and his tender mercies are over 
all his works. Thfe eyes of all wait upon thee, and thou giv 
est them their meat in due season. Thou openest thy hand, 
and satisfiest the desire of every living thing. 

4 Who covereth the heaven with clouds, who prepareth 
rain for the earth, who maketh grass to'grow upon the moun- 
tains. 

5 Happy is the man that findeth wisdom, and the man that 
getteth understanding. For the merchandise of it is better 
than the merchandise of silver, and the gain thereof than fine 
gold. She is more precious than rubies : and all the things 
thou canst desire are not to be compared unto her. 

6 Length of days is in her right hand ; and in her left hand 
riches and honor. Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and 
all her paths are peace. She is a tree of life to them that lay 
hold upon her : and happy is every one that retaineth her. 

7 Receive my instruction, and not silver : and knowledge 
rather than choice gold : for wisdom is better than rubies ; 
and all the things that may be desired are not to be compared 
to it. Wisdom is the principal thing ; therefore get wisdom : 
and with all thy getting get understanding. Take fast hold 
of instruction ; let her not go : keep her; for she is thy life. 

8 Withhold not good "from them to whom it is due, when 
it is in the power of thy hand to do it. Say not unto thy 
neighbor, go, and come again, and to-morrow I will give, 
when thou hast it by thee. 

9 Go to the ant, thou sluggard ; consider her ways, and be 
wise : which having no guide, overseer, or ruler, provideth 
her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in the har- 
vest. How long wilt thou sleep, sluggard ? when wilt thou 

D2 



42 

arise out of thy sleep ? Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a 
little folding of the hands to sleep : So shall thy poverty come 
as one that travelleth, and thy want as an armed man. He 
becometh poor that dealeth with a slack hand : but the hand 
of the diligent maketh rich. He that walketh uprightly walk- 
eth surely : but he that perverteth his ways shall be known. 
The lip of truth shall be established for ever : but a lying 
tongue is but for a moment. 

10 A soft answer turneth away wrath : but grievous words 
stir up anger. Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty 
spirit before a fall. He that is slow to anger is better than 
the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh 
a city. The discretion of a man deferreth his anger ; and it is^ 
his glory to pass over a transgression. A good name is rather 
to be chosen than great riches. A prudent man foreseeth 
the evil, and hideth himself: but the simple pass on, and are 
punished. 

11 Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging: and who- 
soever is deceived thereby is not wise. Be not among wine- 
bibbers ; among riotous eaters of flesh ; for the drunkard and 
the glutton shall come to poverty ; and drowsiness shall 
clothe a man with rags. Who hath wo ? who hath sorrow ? 
who hath contentions ? who hath babbling ? who hath wounds 
without cause ? who hath redness of eyes ? 

12 They that tarry long at the wine; they that go to seek 
mixed wine. Look not thou upon the wine when it is red, 
when it giveth its color in the cup, when it moveth itself 
aright. At the last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like 
an adder. 

13 Who can say, I have made my heart clean, I am pure 
from my sin ? Say not, I will do so to him as he hath done 
to me : I will render to the man according to his work. 

14 I went by the field of the slothful, and by the vineyard 
of the man void of understanding ; and lo, it was all grown 
over with thorns, and nettles covered the face thereof, and 
the stone wall thereof was broken. Then I saw, and con- 
sidered it well : I looked upon it and received instruction. 

15 Where no wood is, there the fire goeth out: so where 
there is no tale bearer, the strife ceaseth : 

16 Remove far from me vanity and lies : give me neither 
poverty nor riches : feed me with food convenient for me. 

17 Who can find a virtuous woman ? for her price is far 
above rubies. She seeketh wool, and flax, and worketh 
willingly with her hands. She is like the merchants' ships ; 



43 

she bringeth her food from afar. She riseth also while it is 
yet night, and giveth meat to her household, and a portion 
to her maidens. 

18 She layeth her hand to the spindle, and her hands 
hold the distaff. She stretcheth out her hand to the poor ; 
yea, she reacheth forth her hands to the needy. She maketh 
fine linen and selleth it ; she openeth her mouth with wis- 
dom ; and in her tongue is the law of kindness. She look- 
eth well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the 
bread of idleness. Her children rise up and call her bless- 
ed ; her husband also, and he praiseth her. 

19 The sleep of a labouring man is sweet, whether he eat- 
eth little or much. 

20 And he shall judge among the nations, and shall re- 
buke many people : and they shall beat their swords into 
plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks : nation shall 
not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war 
any more. 

2 1 But the wicked are like the troubled sea, when it caii- 
wot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt. There is no 
peace, saith my God, to the wicked. 

22 Is it such a fast that I have chosen ? a day for a man to 
afflict his soul ? is it to bow down his head as a bulrush, and 
to spread sackcloth and ashes under him ? wilt thou call this 
a fast, and an acceptable day to the Lord ? 

23 Is not this the fast that I have chosen ? to loose the 
bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let 
the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke ? 

24 Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou 
bring the poor that are cast out to thy house ? when thou 
seest the naked, that thou cover him ; and that thou hide 
not thyself from thine own flesh ? 

25 Wherewith shall I come before the Lord, and bow 
myself before the high God ? shall I come before him with 
burnt offerings, with calves of a year old ? Will the Lord 
be pleased with thousands of rams, or with ten thousands of 
rivers of oil ? Shall I give my first born for my transgression, 
the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul ? 

26 He hath showed thee, man, what is good ; and w r hat 
doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love 
mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God ? 



44 
CHAPTER 2. 

EXTRACTS PROM THE WISDOM OF JESUS, THE SON OF SIRACH. 

\ MY son, help thy father in his age, and grieve him not 
as long as he liveth. And if his understanding fail, have 
patience with him, and despise him not when thou art in thy 
full strength. 

2 Add not more trouble to a heart that is vexed, and 
defer not to give to him that is in need. Be not as a lion in 
thy house, nor frantic among thy servants. Sweet language 
will multiply friends, and a fair speaking tongue will in- 
crease kind greetings. 

3 Do no evil, so shall no harm come unto thee. Be not 
slow to visit the sick : for that shall make thee to be belov- 
ed. Reproach not a man that turneth from sin, but remem- 
ber that we are all worthy of punishment. 

4 When a rich man speaketh, every man holdeth his 
tongue ; and look what he saith, they extol it to the clouds : 
but if the poor man speak, they say, what fellow is this ? 
and if he stumble, they will help to overthrow him. 

5 -Blessed is he whose conscience has not condemned him. 
My son, hast thou sinned ? do so no more, but ask pardon 
for thy former sins. Flee from sin as from the face of a 
s.erpent : for if thou comest too near it, it will bite thee : the 
teeth thereof are as the teeth of a lion, slaying the souls of 
men. 

6 Be faithful unto thy neighbor in his poverty, that thou 
mayest rejoice in his prosperity : abide stedfast unto him in 
the time of his trouble, that thou mayest be heir with him in 
his heritage : for a mean estate is not always to be contemn- 
ed ; nor the rich that is foolish to be had in admiration. 

7 If thou hast gathered nothing in thy youth, how canst 
thou find any thing in thine age ? 

8 Lend to thy neighbour in time of his need, and pay 
thou thy neighbor again in due season. Keep thy word 
faithfully with him, and thou shalt always find the thing that 
is necessary for thee. Many, when a thing was lent them, 
reckoned it to be found, and put them to trouble that helped 
them. Till he hath received he will kiss a man's hand : and 
for his neighbor's money he will speak submissly : but 
when he should repay he will prolong the time, and return 
words of grief, and complain of the time. 

9 Many therefore have refused to lend for other men's ill 



45 
dealing, fearing to be defrauded. Yet have patience with a 
man in poor estate, and delay not to show him mercy. For- 
get not the friendship of thy surety; for he hath given his 
Mfe for thee. 



CHAPTER 3. 

SELECTIONS FROM THE NEW TESTAMENT. 

SECTION I. 
Instructions of Jesus Christ. 

1 BLESSED are they which do hunger and thirst after 
righteousness : for they shall be filled. Blessed are the mer- 
ciful : for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in 
heart : for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers ; 
for they shall be called the children of God. 

2- Ye have heard that it hath been said by them of old 
time, thou shalt not forswear thyself, but shalt perform unto 
the Lord thine oaths : But I say unto you, swear not at all ; 
neither by heaven ; for it is God's throne : nor by the earth; 
for it is his footstool : neither by Jerusalem; for it is the city 
of the great King. 

3 Neither shalt thou swear by thy head, because thou canst 
not make one hair white or black : but let your communica- 
tion be, Yea, yea ; Nay, nay : for whatsoever is more than 
these cometh of evil. 

4 Ye have heard that it hath been said, an eye for an eye, 
and a tooth for a tooth : but I say unto you, that ye resist not 
evil; but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn 
to him the other also. 

5 Give to him that asketh thee, and from him that would 
borrow of thee turn not thou away. Ye have heard that it 
hath been said, thou shalt love thy neighbor, and hate thine 
enemy. 

6 But I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that 
curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them 
which despitefully use you, and persecute you : that ye may 
be the children of your Father which is in heaven : for he 
maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and send- 
eth rain on the just and the unjust. 

7 For if ye love them which love you, what reward have 
ye ? do not even the publicans the same ? And if ye salute 



46 

your brethren only, what do ye more than others ? do not 
even the publicans so ? Be ye therefore perfect, even as your 
Father which is in heaven is perfect. 

8 Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judg- 
ment ye judge, ye shall be judged : and with what measure 
ye mete, it shall be measured to you again. 

9 And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's 
eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye ? 
Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, let me pull out the 
mote out of thine eye ; and, behold, a beam is in thine own 
eye ? Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own 
eye ; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out 
of thy brother's eye. 

10 Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men 
should do to you, do ye even so to them. 

11 Enter ye in at the strait gate: for wide is the gate, and 
broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many 
there be which go in thereat : Because strait is the gate, and 
narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be 
that find it. 

12 Moreover, if thy brother shall trespass against thee, 
go and tell him his fault between thee and him alone : if he 
shall hear thee thou hast gained thy brother. But if he will 
not hear thee, then take with thee one or two more, that 
in the mouth of two or three witnesses every word may be 
established. 

13 For I was a hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was 
thirsty, and ye gave me drink : I was a stranger, and ye took 
me in : naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited 
me : I was in prison, and ye came unto me. 

14 Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, 
when saw we thee a hungered, and fed thee? or thirsty, 
and gave thee drink? When saw we thee a stranger, and 
took thee in ? or naked, and clothed thee ? or when saw we 
thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee ? 

15 And the King shall answer and say unto them, verily 
I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the 
least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me. 

16 And, behold, a certain lawyer stood up, and tempted 
him, saying, Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life ? 
He said unto him, what is written in the law ? how readest 
thou? 

17 And he answering, said, thou shalt love the Lord 
thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with 



47 
all thy strength, and with all thy mind ; and thy neighbor as 
thyself. 

18 And he said unto him, thou hast answered right : this 
do, and thou shalt live. But he, willing to justify himself, 
said unto Jesus, and who is my neighbor ? 

19 And Jesus answering, said, a certain man went down 
from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, which 
stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, 
leaving him half dead. And by chance there came down a 
certain priest that way : and when he saw him, he passed by 
on the other side. 

20 And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came 
and looked on him, and passed by on the other side. But a 
certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was: and 
when he saw him, he had compassion on him, and went to 
him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and^ 
set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and 
took care of him. 

21 And on the morrow, when he departed, he took out 
two pence, and gave them to the host, and said unto him, 
take care of him ; and whatsoever thou spendest more, when 
I come again, I will repay thee. 

22 Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neigh- 
bor unto him that fell among the thieves ? And he said, he 
that shewed mercy on him. Then said Jesus unto him, go, 
and do thou likewise. 

23 But when thou makest a feast, call the poor, the maim- 
ed, the lame, the blind. 

24 Then drew near unto him all the publicans and sinners 
for to hear him. And the Pharisees and scribes murmured, 
saying, this man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them. 

25 And he spake this parable unto them, saying, what 
man of you having a hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, 
doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go 
after that which is lost until he find it ? 

26 And when he hath found it, he layeth it on his shoul- 
ders rejoicing: And when he cometh home he calleth together 
his friends and neighbors, saying unto them, rejoice with 
me, for I have found my sheep w T hich was lost. 

21 I say unto you, that likewise joy shall be in heaven 
over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and 
nine just persons, who need no repentance. 

28 And he said, a certain man had two sons : and the 
younger of them said to his father, father give me the por- 



48 

tion of goods that falleth to me. And he divided unto them 
his living. 

29 And not many days after, the younger son gathered 
all together, and took his journey into a far country, and 
there wasted his substance with riotous living. And when 
he had spent all, there arose a mighty famine in that land ; 
and he began to be in want. 

30 And he went and joined himself to a citizen of that 
country ; and he sent him into his fields to feed swine. And 
he would fain have filled his stomach with the husks that 
the swine did eat : and no man gave unto him. 

31 And when he came to himself, he said, how many 
hired servants of my father's have bread enough, and to 
spare, and I perish with hunger ! I will arise, and go to my 
father, and w T ill say unto him, father, I have sinned against 
heaven, and before thee ; and am no more worthy to be call- 
ed thy son : make me as one of thy hired servants. 

32 And he arose, and came to his father. But when he 
was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had com- 
passion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him. And 
the son said unto him, father, I have sinned against heaven, 
and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy 
son. 

33 But the father said to his servants, bring forth the best 
robe, and put it on him ; and put a rins; on his hand, and 
shoes on his feet : and bring hither the fatted calf, and kill 
it : and let us eat, and be merry : for this my son was dead, 
and is alive again ; he was lost, and is found. And they be- 
gan to be merry. 

34 Now his elder son was in the field : and as he came 
and drew nigh unto the house, he heard music and dancing. 
And he called one of the servants, and asked what these 
things meant ? And he said unto him, thy brother is come ; 
anil thy father hath killed the fatted calf, because he hath re- 
ceived him safe and sound. 

35 And he was angry, and would not go in : therefore 
came his father out, and entreated him. And he answering, 
said to his father, lo, these many years do I serve thee, nei- 
ther transgressed I at any time thy commandment, and yet 
thou never gavest me a kid, that I might make merry with 
my friends. But as soon as this thy son was come, which 
hath devoured thy living with harlots, thou hast killed for 
him the fatted calf. 

36 And he said unto him, son, thou art ever with me, and 



49 
all that I have is thine. It was meet that we should make 
merry, and be glad : for this thy brother was dead, and is 
alive again ; and was lost, and is found. 

37 Take heed to yourselves : if thy brother trespass 
against thee, rebuke him ; and if he repent, forgive him. 

38 And he spake this parable unto certain which trusted 
in themselves that they were righteous, and despised others : 
two men went up into the temple to pray ; the one a Phari- 
see, and the other a Publican. 

39 The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, God, 
I thank thee, that I am not as other men are, extortioners, 
unjust, adulterers, or even as this Publican. 

40 I fast twice in the week, I give tithes of all that I pos- 
sess. And the Publican, standing afar off, would not lift up 
so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote upon his breast, 
saying, God be merciful to me a sinner. 

41 I tell you, this man went down to his home justified, 
rather than the other : for every one that exalteth himself 
shall be abased ; and he that humbleth himself shall be ex- 
alted. 

42 This is my commandment, that ye love one another as 
I have loved you. 



SECTION II. 
Instructions of Paul the Apostle. 

1 Then Paul stood in the midst of Mars hill, and said, ye 
men of Athens, I perceive that in all things ye are too super- 
stitious. For as I passed by, and beheld your devotions, I 
found an altar with this inscription, TO THE UNKNOWN 
GOD. Whom therefore, ye ignorantly worship, him de- 
clare I unto you. 

2 God that made the world and all things therein, seeing 
that he is Lord of heaven and earth, dwelleth not in temples 
made with hands ; neither is worshipped with men's hands, 
as though he needed any thing, seeing he giveth to all life$ 
and breath, and all things. 

3 And hath made of one blood all nations of men for to 
dwell on all the face of the earth, and hath determined the 
times before appointed, and the bounds of their habitation ; 
that they should seek the Lord, if happily they might feel 
after him, and find him, though he be not far from every one 
of us. 

E 



50 

4 For in him we live, and move, and have our being; as 
certain also of your own poets have said, for we are also his 
offspring. Forasmuch then as we are the offspring of God, 
we ought not to think that the Godhead is like unto gold, or 
silver, or stone, graven by art and man's device. 

5 And herein do I exercise myself, to have always a con- 
science void of offence toward God, and toward men. 

6 For not the hearers of the law are just before God, but 
the doers of the law shall be justified. 

7 Let love be without dissimulation. Abhor that which 
ts evil ; cleave to that which is good. 

8 Recompense to no man evil for evil. Provide things 
honest in the sight of all men. If it be possible, as much 
as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men. 

9 Therefore, if thine enemy hunger, feed him ; if he 
thirst, give him drink ; for in so doing thou shalt heap coals 
of fire on his head. Be not overcome of evil, but overcome 
evil with good. 

10 And let us not be weary in well doing : for in due sea- 
son we shall reap, if we faint not. As we have therefore, 
opportunity, let us do good unto all men. 

11 And that ye study to be quiet, and to do your own bu- 
siness, and to work with your own hands, as we commanded 
you : that ye may walk honestly toward them that are with- 
out, and that ye may have lack of nothing. 

12 For even when we were with you, this we command- 
ed you, that if any would not work, neither should he eat. 
For we hear that there are some which walk among you 
disorderly, working not at all, but are busy bodies. 

13 Now them that are such we command and exhort by 
our Lord Jesus Christ, that with quietnees they work, and eat 
their own bread. But ye brethren, be not weary in well 
doing. And if any man obey not our word by this epistle, 
note that man, and have no company with him, that he may 
be ashamed. Yet count him not as an enemy, but admonish 
him as a brother. 

14 In like manner also, that women adorn themselves in 
modest apparel, with shamefacedness and sobriety : not with 
broidered hair or gold, or pearls, or costly array. 

15 Charge them that are rich in this world, that they be not 
high minded., nor trust in uncertain riches, but in the living 
God, who giveth us richly all things to enjoy ; that they do 
good, that they be rich in good works, ready to distribute, 
willing to communicate ; laying up in store for themselves a 



51 

good foundation against the time to come, that they may lay 
hold on eternal life. 

16 Let brotherly love continue. Be not forgetful to en- 
tertain strangers : for thereby some have entertained angels 
unawares. Remember them that are in bonds, as bound with 
them ; and them which suffer adversity, as being yourselves 
also in the body. 

SECTION III. 
Extracts from the Epistles of James, Peter, and John. 

1 If any man among you seem to be religious, and bri- 
dleth not his tongue, but deeeiveth his own heart, this man's 
religion is vain. Pure religion and undefiled before God 
and the Father is this, to visit the fatherless and widows in 
their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the 
world. 

2 For if there come unto your assembly a man with a gold 
ring, in goodly apparel, and there come in also a poor man 
in vile raiment ; and ye have respect to him that weareth 
the gay clothing, and say unto him, sit thou here in a good 
place ; and say to the poor, stand thou there 5 or sit here un- 
der my footstool : are 3^e not then partial in yourselves, and 
are become judges of evil thoughts ? 

3 What doth it profit, my brethren, though a man say he 
hath faith, and nave not works ? can faith save him ? If a 
brother or sister be naked, and destitute of drily food, and 
one of you say unto them, depart in peace, be ye warmed 
and filled; notwithstanding ye give them not those things 
which are needful to the body ; what doth it profit ? 

4 Even so, faith, if it hath not works, is dead, being alone 
Yea, a man may say, thou hast faith, and I have works : show 
me thy faith without thy works, and I will show thee my 
faith by my works. For, as the body without the spirit is 
dead, so faith without works is dead also. 

5 For it is better, if the will of God be so, that ye suffer 
for well doing. 

6 And besides this, giving all diligence, add to your faith 
virtue; and to virtue knowledge; and to knowledge tempe- 
rance; and to temperance patience; and to patience godli- 
ness ; and to godliness brotherly kindness ; and to brotherly 
kindness charity. 

7 But whoso hath this world's good, and seeth his brother" 
have need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from 



52 

him, how dwelleth the love of God in him? My little 
children, let us not love in word, neither in tongue, but in 
deed and in truth. » 

8 Beloved, if God so loved us, we ought also to love one 
another. No man hath seen God at any time. If we love 
one another, God dwelleth in us, and his love is perfected in 
us. Hereby know we that we dwell in him, and he in us, 
because he hath given us of his Spirit. 



53 



PART THIRD. 

ABRIDGMENT OF THE LIVES AND MORAL DISCOURSES Of 
CONFUCIUS AND SOCRATES; AND SENECA'S MORALS. 



CHAPTER 1. 

ABRIDGMENT OF THE LIFE AND MORAL PRECEPTS OF 
CONFUCIUS. 

Let others bestrew the hearses of the great with panegyric. When 
a philosopher dies, I consider myself as losing a patron, an instructor and 
a_ friend : I consider the world as losing one who might serve to console 
her amidst the desolations of war and ambition. Nature seems to have 
forgotten, for more than three thousand years, the manner in which she 
once formed the brain of a Confucius. Goldsmith* 

1 THE celebrated Chinese philosopher, Confucius, did not 
grow in knowledge by degrees, as children usually do, but 
seemed to arrive at reason and the perfection of his faculties 
almost from his infancy. He had a grave and serious de- 
portment, which gained him respect, and plainly foretold 
what he one day would be. 

2 What distinguished him most was his unexampled and 
exalted piety. He honored his relations ; he endeavored 
in all things to imitate his grandfather, who was then alive 
in China, and a very pious man. 

3 One day, when he was a child, he heard his grandfa- 
ther fetch a deep sigh ; and going up to him with much re- 
verence, " may I presume," says he, " without losing the 
respect I owe you, to inquire into the occasion of your 
grief ? Perhaps you fear that your posterity should dege- 
nerate from your virtue, and dishonor you by their vices." 

4 What put this thought into your head, says his grand- 
father to him ? and w r here have you learnt to speak in this 
manner? "From yourself," replied Confucius. " I attend 
diligently to you every time you speak; and I have often 
heard you say, that a son, who does not by his own virtue 
support the glory of his ancestors, and imitate the virtues 
of his parents, does not deserve to bear their name." 

5 At the age of twenty three, when he had gained con- 
siderable knowledge of antiquity, and acquainted himself 

E 2 



54 

with the laws and customs of his country, he began to pro- 
ject a scheme for a general reformation ; for then all the lit- 
tle kingdoms depended upon the emperor; but it often hap- 
pened that the imperial authority was not able to keep them 
within the bounds of their duty, each of the kings being 
master of his dominions. 

6 Confucius, wisely persuaded that the people could 
never be happy, so long as avarice, ambition, voluptuous- 
ness, and false policy should reign in this manner, resolved 
to preach up a severe morality ; and accordingly he began to 
enforce temperance, justice, and other virtues, to inspire a 
contempt of riches and outward pomp, to excite to magna- 
nimity and greatness of soul, which should make men inca- 
pable of dissimulation and insincerity. 

7 He used every mean he could devise, to redeem his 
countrymen from a life of pleasure to a life of reason. He 
was every where known, and as much beloved. His ex- 
treme knowledge and great wisdom soon made him known : 
his integrity, and the splendor of his virtues, made him be- 
loved. Kings were governed by his wisdom, and the peo- 
ple reverenced him as a saint. 

8 He was offered several high offices in the magistracy, 
which he sometimes accepted ; but never from a motive of 
ambition, which he was not at all concerned to gratify, but 
always with a view of reforming a corrupt state, and amend- 
ing mankind : for he never failed to resign those offices, as 
soon as he perceived that he could be no longer useful in 
them. 

9 He inculcated fidelity and candor among the men, ex- 
horted the women to chastity and simplicity of manners. By 
such methods he wrought a general reformation,, and estab- 
lished every where such concord and humanity, that the king- 
dom seemed as it were but one great family. 

10 Thus the people, regulated by the wise maxims and 
precepts of Confucius, enjoyed general happiness, till at 
length the jealousy of the neighboring kings was excited. 
They were convinced that a king, under the counsels of such 
a man as Confucius would soon become too powerful. They 
contrived a plot to demolish the edifice of wisdom and virtue, 
which Confucius had erected, by the temptations of dissipa- 
tion, luxury, vice and sensual pleasures. 

11 Conspiracies were formed against his life: to which 
may be added, that his neglect to his own interests had re- 
duced him to the extramest poverty. Some philosophers 



55 
among his cotemporaries were so affected with the terrible 
state of things, that they had rusticated themselves into 
the mountains and deserts, as the only places where happi- 
ness could be found ; and would have persuaded Confucius to 
have followed them. 

12 But "I am a man, says Confucius, and cannot exclude- 
myself from the society of men, and consort with beasts. 
Bad as the times are, I shall do all that I can to recall men to 
virtue : for in virtue are all things, and if mankind would but 
once embrace it, and submit themselves to its discipline, and 
laws, they would, not want me or any body else to instruct 
them. 

13 " It is the duty of a good man, first to perfect himself, 
and then to perfect others. Human nature, said he, came to 
us from heaven pure and perfect : but in process of time igno- 
rance, the passions, and evil examples have corrupted it. All 
consists in restoring it to its primitive beauty ; and to be per- 
fect, we must re-ascend to that point, from which we have 
fallen. 

14 u Obey heaven, and follow the orders of him w r ho gov- 
erns it. Love your neighbor as yourself. Let your reason, 
and not your senses, be the rule of your conduct ; for reason 
will teach you to think wisely, to speak prudently, and to 
behave yourself worthily upon all occasions," 

15 Confucius, in the mean time, though he had with- 
drawn himself from kings and palaces, did not cease to travel 
about, and do what good he could among the people, and 
among mankind in general. He had often in his mouth the 
maxims and examples of their ancient heroes, so that they 
were thought to be all revived in the person of this great man. 
We shall not wonder, therefore, that he proselyted a great 
number of disciples, who were inviolably attached to his 
person. 

16 He sent six hundred of his disciples into different parts 
of the empire, to reform the manners of the people ; and not 
satisfied with benefiting his own country only, he made fre- 
quent resolutions to pass the seas, and propagate his doctrine 
to the farthest part of the world. Hardly any thing can be 
added to the purity of his morality, which he taught as for- 
cibly by example as by precept. 

17 Confucius did not trust altogether to the memories of 
his disciples^ for the preservation of his philosophy, but he 
composed several books : and though these books were great- 
ly admired for the doctrines they contained, and the fine 



56 

principles of morality they taught, yet such was the unparal- 
leled modesty of this philosopher, that he never assumed the 
least honor about them. 

18 He ingenuously owned, that the doctrine was not his 
own, but was much more ancient ; and that he had done no- 
thing more than collected it from wise legislators who lived 
fifteen hundred years before him. There are some maxims 
and moral sentences in his collection, equal to those of the 
seven wise men of Greece, which have always been so much 
admired. 

Note. — The preceding article is derived principally from the Chinese 
Traveller, which describes some traces of the precepts of Confucius, 
which are observed in China, at the present time ; but are much obscured 
and adulterated by a " monstrous heap of superstitions, magic, idolatry, 
and all sorts of ridiculous and extravagant opinions." 



CHAPTER 2. 



ABRIDGMENT OF THE LIFE AND MORAL DISCOURSES OF SO 
CRATES, CHIEFLY FROM ROLLINGS ANCIENT HISTORY, AND 
XENOPHON ? S MEMOIRS. 

SECTION I. 
Character of Socrates. 



How to live happiest ; 

The precepts here of a divine old man 
I could recite. 



• Of right and wrong he taught 



Truths as refin'd as ever Athens heard ; 

And (strange to tell !) he practised what he preached. 

Armstrong. 

1. SOCRATES was born at Athens, 471 years before the 
commencement of the Christian era. His father was a sculptor; 
and he at first learned the same trade himself, in which he be- 
came very expert. His example, like that of Franklin, the 
Socrates of America, shows that greatness of mind is not ex- 
cluded by the hand of nature, from the sons of industry ; 
though wherever found, the polish of knowledge is essential 
to the developement of its inherent beauties. 

2 Criton is reported to have taken him out of his father's 
shop, fromthe admiration of his fine genius, and the opinion 
that it was inconsistent for a young man, capable of the great- 



57 

est things, to continue perpetually employed upon stone 
with a chisel in his hand. His first study was physics, the 
works of nature, astronomy, &c. ; according to the custom of 
those times. 

3 But after having found by his own experience, how diffi- 
cult, abstruse, intricate, and at the same time, how little use- 
ful that kind of learning was to the generality of mankind, 
he was the first, according to Cicero, who conceived the 
thought of bringing down philosophy from heaven, to place it 
in cities, and introduce it into private houses ; humanizing it, 
to use that expression, and rendering it more familiar, more 
useful in common life, more within the reach of man's capaci- 
ty, and applying it solely to what might make them more ra- 
tional, just and virtuous. 

4 He found there was a kind of folly in devoting the whole 
vivacity of his mind, and employing all his time, in inquiries 
merely curious, involved in impenetrable darkness, and abso- 
lutely incapable of contributing to human happiness ; whilst 
he neglected to inform himself in the ordinary duties of life. 

5 He had accustomed himself early to a sober, severe, labo- 
rious life ; and yet he entertained the most perfect contempt 
for riches, and contentment with poverty. He looked upon 
it as a divine perfection to be in want of nothing. Seeing the 
pomp and show displayed by luxury in certain ceremonies, 
and the infinite quantity of gold and silver employed in them ; 
" How many things," said he, congratulating himself on his 
condition, " do I not want !" 

6 His father left him eighty mina, that is to say, 4,000 livres, 
which he lent to one of his friends, who had occasion for that 
sum. But the affairs of that friend having taken an ill turn, 
he lost the whole, and suffered that misfortune with such in- 
difference and tranquillity, that he did not so much as complain 
of it. 

7 The peculiar austerity of his life did not render him 
gloomy and morose, as, was common enough in those times. 
Though he was very poor, he piqued himself upon the neatness 
of his person and his house, and could not suffer the ridiculous 
affectation of Antisthenes, who always wore dirty and ragged 
clothes. He told him once, that through the holes in his 
cloak, and the rest of his tatters, abundance of vanity might 
be discerned. 

8 The ardent admiration of poverty, imputed to Socrates, 
Diogenes, and other ancient philosophizes, ought to be styled 
philosophical fanaticism, rather than genuine wisdom and 



58 

prudence ; which inculcate the accumulation of property bj 
persevering diligence, as well as the preservation of it, by 
economy and simplicity of manners. 

9 The desire of wealth may become pernicious, when 
cherished at the sacrifice of honesty; and the possession of 
it may be mischievous, both to the owner and others, or be- 
neficial, according to his want of capacity to govern his pas- 
sions, or his discretion and benevolence. 

10 Extreme poverty ought to be regarded among the most 
terrible calamities of human life ; and though vastly prefer- 
able to riches with a prostituted conscience, ought not to 
be submitted to contentedly, except on these conditions :* 

" For the future be prepared, 

Guard wherever thou canst guard ; 

But thy utmost duty done, 

Welcome what thou canst not shun." — Burns. 

11 One of the most distinguishing qualities of Socrates, 
was a tranquillity of soul, that no accident, no loss, no in- 
jury, no ill treatment could ever alter. Seneca tells us, that 
ne had desired his friends to apprise him whenever they saw 
him ready to fall into a passion, and that he had given them 
that privilege over him, which he took himself with them. 
Finding himself in great emotion against a slave, "I would 
beat you," says he, " if I were not angry." 

12 Without going out of his own house, he found enough 
to exercise his patience in all its extent. Xantippe, his wife, 
put it to the severest proofs by her capricious, passionate, 
violent disposition. She would sometimes be transported 
with such an excess of rage as to tear off his cloak in the 
open street; and even one day, after having vented all the 
reproaches her fury could suggest, she emptied a pot upon 
his head; at which he only laughed, and said, " that so much 
thunder must needs produce a shower." 

13 After having related some particularities in the life 
of Socrates, it is time to proceed to that in w T hich his cha- 
racter principally and peculiarly consisted ; I mean the pains 
he took to instruct mankind, and particularly in forming the 
youth of Athens. 

14 He seemed, says Libarius, the common father of the 
republic, so attentive was he to the happiness and advantage 
of his whole country. But as it is very -difficult to correct 
the aged, and to make people change principles who revere 

* J. T. 



59 

the errors in which they have grown gray, he devoted his la- 
bors principally to the instruction of youth, in order to sow 
the seeds of virtue in a soil more fit to produce the fruits 
of it 

15 He had no open school, like the rest of the philoso- 
phers, nor set times for his lessons. He had no benches 
prepared, nor ever mounted a professor's chair. He was the 
philosopher of all times and seasons. He taught in all 
places and upon all occasions ; in walking, conversation, at 
meals, in the army, in the public assemblies, in prison itself; 
and when he drank the poison, he philosophized, says Plu- 
tarch, and instructed mankind. And from thence the same 
judicious author takes occasion to establish a great principle 
in point of government. 

16 To be a public man, says he, it is not necessary to be 
actually in office, to wear the robe of judge or magistrate, 
and to sit in the highest tribunals, for the administration of 
justice. But whoever knows how to give wise counsel to 
those who consult him, to animate the citizens to virtue, and 
to inspire them with sentiments of probity, equity, generosity, 
and love of their country ; this is, says Plutarch, the true 
magistrate and ruler, in whatever place or condition he be. 

17 Such was Socrates. The services he did the state, by 
the instructions he gave their youth, and the disciples he 
formed, were inexpressibly great; never had master a greater 
number, or so illustrious. The ardor of the young Athenians 
to follow him, was incredible. They left father and mother, 
and renounced all parties of pleasure, to attach themselves 
to him, and hear his discourses. 



SECTION II. 

Dialogue between Socrates and Glauco, on Excessive 
•Ambition. 

1 The young people of Athens, dazzled with the glory of 
Themistocles, Cimon, and Pericles, and full of a wild ambi- 
tion, after having received for some time the lessons of the 
sophists, who promised to make them very great politicians, 
conceived themselves capable of every thing, and aspired to 
the highest employments. 

2 One of these, named Glauco, had taken it so strongly 
into his head, to enter upon the administration of the public 
affairs, though not twenty years old, that none of his family 



60 

or friends were able to divert him from a design, so little con- 
sistent with his age and capacity, Socrates, who had an af- 
fection for him on account of Plato his brother, was the only 
person who could prevail upon him to change his resolution. 

3 Meeting him one day, he accosted him so happily with 
discourse, that he engaged him to give the hearing. "You 
are desirous then to govern the republic," said he to him. 
"True," replied Glauco. " You cannot have a more noble 
design," answered Socrates, "for if you succeed you will 
have it in your power to serve your friends effectually, to ag- 
grandize your family, and to extend the confines of your 
country. 

4 " You will make yourself known, not only to Athens, but 
throughout all Greece, and perhaps your renown, like that of 
Themistocles, may spread abroad amongst the barbarous na 
tions. In short, wherever you are, you will attract the res 
pect and admiration of the whole world." 

5 So smooth and insinuating a prelude, was extremely 
pleasing to the young man, who was taken by his blind side. 
He staid willingly, gave him no occasion to press him on that 
account, and the conversation continued. " Since you desire 
to be esteemed and honored, no doubt your view is to be use- 
ful to the public ?" " Certainly." " Tell me then, I beg you, 
what is the first service you propose to render the state ?" 

6 As Glauco seemed at a loss, and meditated upon what 
he should answer ; "I presume," continues Socrates, "it is 
to enrich it, that is to say, to augment its revenues." "My 
very thought." " You are well versed then, undoubtedly in the 
revenues of the state, and know perfectly to what they may 
amount. You have not failed to make them your particular 
study, in order that if a fund should happen to fail, by any 
unforeseen accident, you might be able to supply the deficien- 
cy, by another/' 

7 "I protest," replied Glauco, "that never entered my 
thoughts." "At least you will tell to what the expenses of 
the republic amount; for you must know the importance 
of retrenching such as are superfluous." " I own I am as 
little informed in this point as the other." "You must there- 
fore defer your design of enriching the state till another time ; 
for it is impossible you should do it, whilst you are unac- 
quainted with its revenues and expenses." 

8 He ran over in this manner, several other articles no 
less important, with which Glauco appeared equally unao- 
quaintad ; till he brought him to confess, how ridiculous those 



61 

people were, who have the rashness to intrude into govern- 
ment without any other preparation for the service of the pub- 
lic, than that of a high esteem for themselves, and an im- 
moderate ambition of rising to the first places and dignities. 

9 "Have a care, dear Glauco," said he to him, "lest a 
too warm desire of honors should deceive you into pursuits 
that may cover you with shame, by setting your incapacity 
and slender abilities in full light. " 

10 Glauco improved from the wise admonitions of So- 
crates, and took time to inform himself in private, before he 
ventured to appear in public. This is a lesson for all ages, 
and may be very useful to persons in all stations and condi- 
tions of life. 



SECTION III. 

Dialogue between Socrates and Euthydemus, on the bene* 
ficence of God. 

1 Xenophon has transmitted to us a conversation of So- 
crates with Euthydemus, upon the wisdom and goodness of 
Providence, which is one of the finest passages to be found 
in the writings of the ancients. 

2 " Did you never reflect within yourself," says Socrates 
to Euthydemus, " how much care the gods have taken to 
bestow upon man all that is necessary to his nature?" 
"Never, I assure you," replied he. "You see," continued 
Socrates, "how necessary light is, and how precious that 
gift of the gods ought to appear to us." 

3 "Without it," added Euthydemus, "we should be Jike 
the blind, and all nature as if it were not, or were dead ; be- 
cause we have occasion for suspense and relaxation, they 
have also given us the night for our repose." 

4 " You are in the right, and for this we ought to render 
them continual praise and thanksgiving. They have ordained 
that the sun, that bright and luminous star, should preside 
over the day, to distinguish its different parts, and that its 
light should not only serve to discover the wonders of nature, 
but to dispense universal light and heat ; and at the same 
time they have commanded the moon and stars to illuminate 
the night of itself dark and obscure. 

5 " Is there any thing more admirable than this variety 
and vicissitude of day and night, of light and darkness, of 



62 
labor and rest ; and all this for the convenience and good of 

man ?" 

6 Socrates enumerates in like manner, the infinite advan- 
tages we receive from fire and water in the occasions of life ; 
and continuing to observe upon the wonderful attention of 
providence in all that regards us. "What say you," pursued 
he, " upon the sun's return after winter to revisit us, and that 
as the fruits of one season wither and decay, he ripens new 
ones to succeed them? 

7 " That having rendered man this service, he retires, lest 
he should incommode him by excess of heat ; and then, after 
having removed to a certain point, which he could not pass 
without putting us in danger of perishing with cold, that he 
returns in the same track to resume his place in those parts 
of the heavens, w T here his presence is most beneficial to us ? 

8 " And because w~e would neither support the cold or 
heat, if we were to pass in an instant from one to the other, 
do you not admire, that while this star approaches and re- 
moves so slowly, the two extremities arrive by almost in- 
sensible degrees ! Is it possible not to discover in this dispo- 
sition of the seasons of the year, a providence and goodness, 
not only attentive to our necessities, but even our delights 
and enjoyments ?" 

9 " All these things," said Euthydemus, "make me 
doubt, whether the gods have any other employment than to 
shower their gifts and graces upon mankind. There is one 
point, however, that puts me to a stand, which is, that the 
brute animals partake of all these blessings as well as our- 
selves." 

10 " Yes," replied Socrates; "but do you but observe, 
that all these animals subsist only for man's service ? The 
strongest and most vigorous of them he subjects at his will, 
he makes them tame and gentle, and uses them successfully 
in his wars, his labors, and the other occasions of life. 

11 "What if we consider man in himself?" Here So- 
crates examines the diversity of the senses, by the ministry 
ax which man enjoys all that is best and most excellent in 
nature ; the vivacity of his wit, and the force of his reason, 
which exalt him infinitely above all other animals; the won- 
derful gift of speech, by the means of which we communicate 
our thoughts reciprocally, publish our laws, and govern 
states. 

12 "From all this," says Socrates, "it is easy to discern 
that there are .gods, and that they have man in their particu- 



63 

lar care; though he cannot, discover them by his senses. 
Do we perceive the thunder, whilst it strikes through all 
things that oppose it ? Do we distinguish the winds, whilst 
they are tearing up all before them in our view ? Our soul 
itself, with which we are so intimate, which moves and acts 
us, is it visible ? can we behold it ? It is the same with re- 
gard to the gods, of whom none are visible in the distribu- 
tion of their favors. 

13 " The GREAT GOD himself, this great God, who has 
formed the universe, and supports the stupendous work, 
whose every part is finished with the utmost goodness and 
harmony ; he who preserves them perpetually in immortal 
vigor, and causes them to obey him with a never failing 
punctuality, and a rapidity not to be followed by our imagi- 
nation; this God makes himself sufficiently visible by the 
endless wonders of which he is author; but continues always 
invisible in himself. 

14 " Let "us not then refuse ta believe even what we do 
not see, and let us supply the defects of our corporeal eyes, 
by using those of the soul; but especially let us learn to ren- 
der the just homage of respect and veneration to the divinity, 
whose will it seems to be, that we should have no other per- 
ception of him than by his effects in our favor. Now this 
adoration, this homage, consists in pleasing him, and we can 
only please him by doing his will." 

15 In this manner Socrates instructed youth; these are 
the principles and sentiments he inspired into them; on the 
one side perfect submission to the laws and magistrates, in 
which he made justice consist; on the other, a profound re- 
gard for, and conformity to the will, of the divinity, which" 
constitutes religion. 

16 He cites an excellent prayer from an anonymous poet : 
" Great God, give us, we beseech thee, those good things of 
which we stand in need, whether we crave them or not ; 
and remove from us all those which may be hurtful to us, 
though we implore them of you." 

SECTION III. 
Accusation, defence, condemnation and death of Socrates. 
1 Socrates having been accused by his enemies, of whom 
the best men frequently have the . greatest number, and 
brought to a public trial, on a variety of frivolous and mostly 
false charges, he was condemned, by a majority of five hun- 
dred judges, to suffer death by drinking a decoction of hem- 



64 

lock, (cicuta,) which he submitted to, with undaunted firm- 
ness and* composure. 

2 One accusation was, that he denied the fabulous deities 
adored by his country ; which if true, would have been one 
of the most magnanimous and glorious deeds he could have 
been guilty of. He, however, denies the charge, and cites 
the sacrifices he had made to them, in the temples and in his 
own house. , 

3 He was accused of corrupting and leading astray th 
youth, there being mischievous and abandoned men found 
among those who had been his pupils. To which he makes 
the following defence : 

4 " I am accused of corrupting the youth, and of instilling 
dangerous maxims into them, as well in regard to the wor- 
ship of the gods, as the rules of government. You know, 
Athenians, that I never made it my profession, to teach; nor 
can envy, however violent against me, reproach me with 
ever having sold my instructions. I have an undeniable 
evidence for me in this respect, which is my poverty. 

5 " Always equally ready to communicate my thoughts 
either to the rich or poor, and to give them entire leisure to 
question or answer me, I lend myself; to every one who is 
desirous of becoming virtuous; and if amongst those who hear 
me, there are any who prove either good or bad, neither the 
virtues of the one, nor the vices of the other, to which I have 
not contributed, are to be ascribed to me. 

6 " My whole employment is to persuade young and old 
against too much love for the body, for riches, and all other 
precarious things of whatever nature they be, and against 
too little regard for the soul, which ought to be the object of 
their affection : for I incessantly urge to you, that virtueMbes 
not proceed from riches, but on the contrary, riches froip 
virtue ; and that all the other goods of human life, as well 
public as private, have their source in the same principle. 

7 " And what is the cause that when others are under a 
necessity to procure their delicacies from abroad, at an exor- 
bitant rate, / can indulge in pleasures far more exquisite, by 
recurring to the reflections in my own mind ? If to speak in 
this manner be to. corrupt youth, I confess, Athenians, that I .. 
am guilty, and deserve to be punished." "Pass on me what 
sentence you please, Athenians, but I can neither repent nor 
change my conduct." 

8 On hearing his final sentence, addressing himself to the 
judges with a noble tranquillity, " I am going," said he, " to 



65 

suffer death by your order, to which nature had condemned 
me from the first moment of my birth; but my accusers will 
suffer no less from infamy and injustice by the decrees of 
truth." 

9 While in prison, Socrates was notified by his friends 
that his jailor was bribed, and that it was in his power to 
escape the fatal destiny which awaited him, which he was 
pressingly urged to do. But he sternly rejected the propo- 
sition, on the principle that it would be unjust and shameful 
to violate and evade the laws of the republic, even in their 
cruel excesses ; having repeatedly pledged himself to invio- 
lable fidelity, by the most solemn engagements. 

10 "It has always been a maxim with us," says he, " that 
it is never allowable, upon any pretence whatsoever, to com- 
mit injustice, not even in regard to those who injure us, nor 
to return evil for evil, and that when we have once engaged 
our word, we are bound to keep it inviolably ; no interest 
being capable to dispense with it." 

1 1 Some time after the death of Socrates, the Athenians 
became sensible of their shameful outrage, which appeared in 
all its horrors. Athens was in universal mourning and con- 
sternation. The accusers were called to an account, and con- 
demned to death, banishment, and treated with every kind 
of contumely ; so that some of them killed themselves. 

12 Although Socrates discovered extraordinary sagacity 
in the perception of moral truth, it appears, from his constru- 
ing his penetrating prompt judgment into a personal genius, 
or demon, that he had not divested his mind of the influence 
of the fantastic chimeras that were generally prevalent in 
those dark ages of ignorance and superstition. Another evi- 
dence of this, is, his faith in oracles, in sacrifices to imaginary 
fabulous deities, in a multiplicity of Gods, &c. 

13 The excellent instructions which Socrates delivered 
to the Athenians, in relation to the practical moral duties, 
entitled him to their respect and gratitude ; but they still 
remained idolatrous, and " too superstitious/ 9 until, five 
hundred years after him, — " Paul stood in the midst of 
Mars hill," and declared unto them the God "that dwelleth 
not in temples made with hands !" J. T. 

F2 



6M 

SECTION V. 

IHscourses of Socrates on the duties of children to parents, 

and on fraternal affection. 

1 Xenophon has recorded a conversation between Socrates 
and his son, on the patience that children ought to exercise 
towards the faults of their parents ; and another with Chere- 
crates, the brother of Cherephon, on fraternal friendship, 
which ought to be in possession of every family that now 
exists, or shall exist in our world. 

2 Socrates observing his eldest son Lamprocles in a vio- 
lent passion with his mother, opened a discourse with him 
as follows : — " Come hither, son/' said he; " have you never 
heard of men who are called ungrateful?" " Yes, frequent- 
ly," answered the youth. "And what is ingratitude ?" de- 
manded Socrates. " It is to receive a kindness," said Lam- 
procles, " without making a proper return, w T hen there is a 
favorable opportunity." " Ingratitude is therefore a species 
of injustice," said Socrates. " I should think so," answered 
Lamprocles. 

3 " If then," pursued Socrates, " ingratitude be injustice, 
does it not follow, that the degree of it must be' proportionate 
to the magnitude of the favors which have been received ?" 
Lamprocles admitted the inference; and Socrates thus pur- 
sued his interrogations. 

4 " Can there subsist higher obligations than those which 
children owe to their parents, from whom life is derived and 
supported, and by whose good offices it is rendered honorable, 
useful and happy ?" " I acknowledge the truth of what you 
say," replied Lamprocles ; " but who could suffer, without 
resentment, the ill humors of such a mother as I have?" 
u What strange thing has she done to you ?" said Socrates. 

5 " She has a tongue," replied Lamprocles, "that no 
mortal can bear." " How much more," said Socrates, " has 
she endured from your wrangling, fretfulness, and incessant 
cries, in the period of infancy ! What anxieties has she suf- 
fered from the levities, capriciousness and follies of your 
childhood and youth ! What affliction has she felt, what toil 
and watching has she sustained in your illnesses ! These, and 
various other powerful motives to filial duty and gratitude, 
have been recognised by the legislators of our republic. 

6 " For, if any one be disrespectful to his parents, he is 
not permitted to enjoy any post of trust or honor. Let no 
one discover the contempt with whioh you have treated her; 



67 

for the world will condemn and abandon you for such beha- 
viour. And if it be even suspected that you repay with in- 
gratitude the good offices of your parents, you will inevitably 
forego the kindness of others; because no man will suppose 
that you have a heart to requite either his favors or his 
friendship." 

7 Cherephon and Cherecrates having quarrelled with each 
other, Socrates, their common friend, was solicitous to 
restore amity between them. Meeting, therefore, with Che- 
recrates, he thus accosted him: "Is not friendship the sweet- 
est solac^ in adversity, and the greatest enhancement of the 
blessings of prosperity?" " Certainly it is," replied Chere- 
crates ; " because our sorrows are diminished and our joys 
increased by sympathetic participation." 

8 "Amongst whom, then, must we look for a friend?" 
said Socrates. " Would you search among strangers ? They 
cannot be interested about you. Amongst your rivals ? They 
have an interest in opposition to yours. Amongst those who 
are much older or younger than yourself ? Their feelings 
and pursuits will be widely different from yours. Are there 
not, then, some circumstances favorable, and others essen- 
tial, to the formation of friendship ?" " Undoubtedly there 
are," answered Cherecrates. 

9 "May we not enumerate," continued Socrates, "amongst 
the circumstances favorable to friendship, long acquaintance, 
common connections, similitude of age and union of inte- 
rest ?" " I acknowledge, "said Cherecrates, " the powerful 
influence of these circumstances ; but they may subsist, 
and yet others be wanting, that are essential to mutual 
amity." 

10 "And what," said Socrates, "are those essentials 
which are wanting in Cherephon ?" " He has forfeited my 
esteem and attachment," answered Cherecrates. "And has 
he also forfeited the esteem and attachment of the rest of 
mankind ?" continued Socrates. " Is he devoid of benevo- 
lence, generosity, gratitude, and other social affections ?" 

11 "Far be it from me," cried Cherecrates, "to lay so 
heavy a charge upon him: his conduct to others is, I believe, 
irreproachable ; and it wounds me the more that he should 
single me out as the object of his unkindness." 

12 " If you desire that one of your neighbors should in*, 
vite you to his feast, what course would you take?" "I 
would first invite him to mine." "And how would you in- 
duce him to take the charge of your affairs, when you are 



68 

on a journey ?" "I should be forward to do the same good 
office to him in his absence." 

13 "If you be solicitous to remove a prejudice which he 
may have received against you, how would you then be- 
have towards him?" "I should endeavor to convince him 
by my looks, words and actions, that such prejudice was ill 
founded." "And, if he appeared inclined to reconciliation, 
would you reproach him with the injustice he had done you?" 
"No," answered Cherecrates; "I would repeat no griev- 
ances." 

14 " Delay not, therefore, my Cherecrates, to do what I 
advise ; use your endeavor to appease your brother ; nor 
doubt his readiness to return your love." — " But suppose, 
my Socrates, when I have acted as you advise, my brother 
should behave no better than he has done ?" — "Should it 
prove so, Cherecrates, what other harm can arise to you from 
it, than that of having shown yourself a good man, and a 
good" brother to one, whose badness of temper makes him 
undeserving of your regard ? 

15 "But, I have no apprehension of so unfavorable an 
issue to this matter: rather, when your brother shall see it 
your intention to conquer by courtesy, he himself will strive 
to excel in so noble a contest. As it is, nothing can be more 
deplorable than your present situation ; it being no more 
than if these hands, ordained of God for mutual assistance, 
should so far forget their office as to impede each other: — But 
no situation can hinder brothers, who live in amity, from 
rendering one another the most essential services." 

SECTION VI. 

Conversation between Socrates and Critobulus, on the art 

of procuring the friendship of good men. 

1 "Suppose," said Socrates, "we wanted to choose a 
worthy friend, what should be our method of proceeding ? 
Should we not beware of one much addicted to intemperance 
and dissipation ? or of a lazy disposition ? Since enslaved to 
such vices, no man would be of use, either to himself, or any 
other." « Certainly." 

2 " And if there was a person, provident indeed enough, 
but withal so covetous, as never to be content unless he had 
the advantage of you on every occasion?" — "I would think 
of him worse than the other." — "But what do you say to the 
man, Critobulus, who is so much bent on making a fortune 
as to mind nothing but what serves to that end?" — "I say, 



69 
leave him to himself ; since it is sure he will never be of uee 
to any other. " 

3 " But what if the man were free from these defects ; 
and had only such a selfishness belonging to him, as made 
him always ready to recede favors, but not at all solicitous 
about returning any ?" 

4 " Why certainly/' replied Critobulus, "no person would 
wish to have any thing to say to such a one: — "But, my 
Socrates," continued he, " since none of these people will 
serve our purpose, show me, I desire you, what sort of 
man he must be whom we should endeavor to make a friend 
of?" 

5 "I suppose," said Socrates, "he should be the very re- 
verse of all we have been saying: — moderate in his pleasures — 
a strict observer of his word — fair and open in all his deal- 
ings ; and who will not suffer even his friend to surpass him 
in generosity; so that all are gainers with whom he hath 
to do." 

6 "But how shall we find such a one," said Critobulus; "or 
make trial of those virtues and vices, without running some 
hazard by the experiment? And when we have found out a 
man whom we judge proper to make a friend of; ^what means 
may w r e use to engage his affection ?" 

7 "Not hunt him down, Qritobulus, as we do hares; nor 
catch him by stratagem, as we do birds; neither are we to 
seize him by force, as we are wont to do our enemies; for it 
would be an arduous task to make a man your friend in spite 
of inclination." 

8 " You would insinuate, then, my Socrates, that in order 
to obtain a virtuous friend, we must endeavor, first of all, to 
be ourselves virtuous ?" 

9 " Why, can you suppose, Critobulus, that a bad man can 
gain the affection of a good one ? Make yourself in the first 
place a virtuous man, and then boldly set yourself to gain 
the affection of the virtuous. Set yourself, therefore, dili- 
gently to the attainment of every virtue; and you will find 
on experience, that no one of them whatsoever but will 
flourish and gain strength, when properly exercised* This. 
is the counsel / have to give you, my Critobulus." 



70 
CHAPTER 3. 

ABRIDGMENT OF SENECA's MORALS. 

SECTION I. 
Abridgment of Seneca's discourse on Beneficence. 

He that would know all things, let him read Seneca ; the most lively 
describer of public vices and manners, and the smartest reprehender of 
them. — Laciantius. 

Next to the gospel itself, I do look upon Seneca's Morals, as the most 
sovereign remedy against the miseries of human nature. — L'Estrange. 

1 AN obstinate goodness overcomes an ill disposition, as 
a barren soil is made fruitful by care and tillage. But let a 
man be never so ungrateful or inhuman, he shall never de- 
stroy the satisfaction of my having done a good office. 

2 But what if others will be wicked ? does it follow that 
we must be so too ? If others will be ungrateful, must we 
therefore be inhuman ? To give and to lose, is nothing ; but 
to lose and to give still, is the part of a great mind. And the 
other's in effect, is the greater loss; for the one does but lose 
his benefit, and the other loses himself. The light shines 
upon the profane and sacrilegious as well as upon the right- 
eous. The mariner puts to sea again after a wreck. 

3 An illustrious mind does not propose the profit of a good 
office, but the duty, If the world be wicked, we should yet 
persevere in well-doing, even among evil men. I had rather 
never receive a kindness than never bestow one : not to re- 
turn a benefit is the greater sin, but not to confer it is the 
earlier. 

4 We cannot propose to ourselves a more glorious exam- 
ple than that of the Almighty, who neither needs nor expects 
any thing from us; and yet he is continually showering down 
and distributing his mercies and his grace among us, not only 
for our necessities, but also for our delights ; as fruits and 
seasons, rain and sunshine, veins of water and of metal ; and 
all this to the wicked as well as to the good, and without any 
other end than the common benefit of the receivers. 

5 With what face then can we be mercenary one to an- 
other, that have received all things from Divine Providence 
gratis? It is a common saying, " I gave such or such a man 
so much money, I would I had thrown it into the sea:" and 
yet the merchant trades again after a piracy, and the banker 
ventures afresh after a bad security. 

6 He that will do no good offices after a disappointment, 
must stand still, and do just nothing at all. The plow goes 



71 

on after a barren year : and while the ashes are yet warm, 
we raise a new house upon the ruins of a former. 

7 What obligations can be greater than those which chil- 
dren receive from their parents ? and yet should we give them 
over in their infancy, it were all to no purpose. Benefits, 
like grain, must be followed from the seed to the harvest. I 
will not so much as leave any place for ingratitude. I will 
pursue, and I will encompass the receiver with benefits ; so 
that let him look which way he will, his benefactor shall be 
still in his eye, even when he would avoid his own memory. 

8 In a matter. of money, it is a common thing to pay a 
debt out of course, and before it be due ; but we account our- 
selves to owe nothing for a good office; whereas the benefit 
increases by delay. So insensible are we of the most im- 
portant affair of human life. 

9 That man were doubtless in a miserable condition, that 
could neither see, nor hear, nor taste, nor feel, nor smell : but 
much more unhappy is he than that, wanting a sense of bene- 
fits, loses the greatest comfort in nature in the bliss of giving 
and receiving them. He that takes a benefit as it is meant, 
is in the right ; for the benefactor has then his end, and his 
only end, when the receiver is grateful. 

ABRIDGMENT OF SENECA ? S TREATISE ON A HAPPY LIFE. 

SECTION II. 
On a happy life, and wherein it co?isists. 

1 There is not any thing in this world, perhaps, that is 
more talked of, and less understood, than the business of a 
happy life. It is every man's wish and design ; and yet not 
one of a thousand that knows wherein that happiness consists. 
We live, however, in a blind and eager pursuit of it ; and the 
more haste we make in a wrong way, the farther we are from 
our journey's end. 

2 Let us therefore, first, consider " what it is we should 
be at;" and secondly, "which is the readiest way to com- 
pass it." If we be right, we shall find every day how much 
we improve ; but if we either follow the cry, or the track, 
of people that are out of the way, we must expect to be mis- 
led, and to continue our days in wandering and error. 

3 Wherefore, it highly concerns us to take along with us 
a skilful guide ; for it is not in this, as in other voyages, 
where the highway brings us to our place of repose ,- or if a 
man should happen to be out, where the inhabitants might 
set him right again : but on the contrary, the beaten road is 



72 
here the most dangerous, and the people instead of helping 
us, misguide us. Let us not therefore follow, like beasts, 
but rather govern ourselves by reason, than by example. 

4 It fares with us in human life as in a routed army ; one 
stumbles first, and then another falls upon him, and so they 
follow, one upon the neck of another, until the whole field 
comes to be but one heap of miscarriages. 

5 And the mischief is, " that the number of the multitude 
carries it against truth and justice ;" so that we must leave 
the crowd if we would be happy : for the question of a happy 
life is not to be decided by vote : nay, so far from it, that 
plurality of voices is still an argument of the wrong ; the 
common people find it easier to believe than to judge, and 
content themselves with what is usual, never examining 
whether it be good or not. 

6 By the common people is intended the man of title as 
well as the clouted shoe : for I do not distinguish them by 
the eye, but by the mind, which is the proper judge of the 
man. 

7 The true felicity of life is to be free from perturbations; 
to understand our duties toward God and man : to enjoy the 
present without any anxious dependence upon the future. 
The great blessings of mankind are within us, and within our 
reach; but we shut our eyes, and, like people in the dark, we 
fall foul upon the very thing we search for without finding it. 

8 " Tranquillity is a certain equality of mind, which no 
condition of fortune can either exalt or depress." " True 
joy is a serene and sober motion;" and they are miserably 
out that take laughing for rejoicing. The seat of it is with- 
in, and there is no cheerfulness like the resolution of a brave 
mind, that has fortune under his feet. He that can look death 
in the face, and bid it welcome ; open his door to poverty, 
and bridle his appetites; this is the man whom Providence 
has established in the possession of inviolable delights. The 

Pleasures of the vulgar are ungrounded, thin, and superficial; 
ut the other are solid and eternal. 

9 As the body itself is rather a necessary thing than a 
great; so the comforts of it are but temporary and vain; be- 
side that, without extraordinary moderation, their end is only 
pain and repentance; whereas, a peaceful conscience, honest 
thoughts, virtuous actions, and an indifference for casual 
events, are blessings without end, satiety, or measure. 

10 This consummated state of felicity is only a submission 
to the dictate of right nature ; " The foundation of it is wis- 



73 
dom and virtue; the knowledge of what we ought to do, and 
the conformity of the will to that knowledge." 

SECTION III. 
Human happiness is founded upon wisdom and virtue. 

1 Taking for granted that human happiness is founded 
upon wisdom and virtue, we shall treat of these two points 
in order as they lie ; and, first, of wisdom ; not in the latitude 
of its various operations, but as it has only a regard to a good 
life, and the happiness of mankind. 

2 Wisdom is a right understanding, a faculty of discerning 
good from evil ; what is to be chosen, and what rejected ; a 
judgment grounded upon the value of things, and not the 
common opinion of them; an equality of force, and a strength 
of resolution. It sets a watch over our words and deeds, it 
takes us up with the contemplation of the works of nature, 
and makes us invincible to either good or evil fortune. 

3 It is the habit of a perfect mind, and the perfection of 
humanity, raised as high as nature can carry it. It differs 
from philosophy, as avarice and money ; the one desires, and 
the other is desired ; the one is the effect and the reward of 
the other. To be wise is the use of wisdom, as seeing is the 
use of eyes, and well speaking the use of eloquence. 

4 He that is perfectly wise is perfectly happy; nay, the 
very beginning of w r isdom makes life easy to us. Neither is 
it enough to know this, unless we print it in our minds by 
daily meditation, and so bring a good will to a good habit. 

5 And we must practise what we preach : for philosophy 
is not a subject for popular ostentation ; nor does it rest in 
words, but in things. It is not an entertainment taken up for 
delight, or to give a taste to our leisure; but it fashions the 
mind, governs our actions, tells what we are to do, and what 
not. 

6 It sits at the helm, and guides us through all hazards ; 
nay, we cannot be safe without it, for every hour gives us 
occasion to make use of it It informs us in all the duties of 
life, piety to our parents, faith to our friends, charity to the 
miserable, judgment in counsel; it gives us peace by fearing 
nothing, and riches by coveting nothing, 

7 There is no condition of life that excludes a wise man 
from discharging his duty. If his fortune be good, he tem- 
pers it ; if bad, he masters it ; if he has an estate, he will 
exercise his virtue in plenty; if none, in poverty. 

8 Some accidents mere are, which I confess may affect 

G 



74 

him, but not overthrow him ; as bodily pains, loss of chil- 
dren and friends; the ruin and desolation of a man's country. 
One must be made of stone, or iron, not to be sensible of 
these calamities : and beside, it were no virtue to bear them, 
if a body did not feel them. If there were nothing else in 
it, a man would apply himself to wisdom, because it settles 
him in a perpetual tranquillity of mind. 

SECTION IV. 
There can be no Happiness without Virtue. 

1. Virtue is that perfect good,* which is the complement 
*C a happy life; the only immortal thing that belongs to 
mortality: it is the knowledge both of others and itself; it is 
an invincible greatness of,mind not to be elevated or dejected 
with good or ill fortune. 

2. It is sociable and gentle, free, steady, and fearless : 
content within itself; full of inexhaustible delights ; and it is 
valued for itself. One may be a good physician, a good gov- 
ernor, a good grammarian, without being a good man; so 
that all things from without are only accessaries; for the seat 
of it is a pure and holy mind. 

3 It consists in a congiuity of actions which we can 
never expect so long as we are distracted by our passions. It 
is not the matter >, but the virtue, that makes the action good 
or ill; and he that is Jed in tiiumph may be yet greater than 
his conqueror. 

4. When we come once to value our flesh above our hon- 
esty, we are lost; and yet I would not press upon dangers, 
no, not so much as upon inconveniences, unless where the 
man and the brute come in competition: and in such a case, 
rather than make a forfeiture of my credit, my reason, or my 
faith, I would run all extremities. 

5. It is by an impression of nature that all men have a 
reverence for virtue ; they know it, and they have a respect 
for it, though they do not practise it: nay, for the counte- 
nance of their very wickedness, they miscall it virtue. Their 
injuries they call benefits, and expect a man should thank 
them for doing him a mischief; they cover their most noto- 
rious iniquities with a pretext of justice. 

6. He that robs upon the highway, had rather find his 
booty than force it. Ask any of them that live upon rapine, 
fraud, oppression, if they had not rather enjoy a fortune 
honestly gotten, and their consciences will not suffer them 
to deny it. 



75 

7 Men are vicious only for the profit of villany ; for, at 
the same time that they commit it, they condemn it. Nay, 
so powerful is virtue, and so gracious is Providence, that 
every man has a light set up within him for a guide ; which 
we do all of us both see and acknowledge, though we do not 
pursue it* 

8 What I do shall be done for conscience, not ostenta- 
tion. I will eat and drink, not to gratify my palate, but to 
satisfy nature: I will be cheerful to my friends, mild and 
placable to my enemies: I will prevent an honest request, if 
I can foresee it, and I will grant it without asking : I will 
look upon the whole world as my country : I will live and 
die with this testimony, that I loved good studies and a good 
conscience; that I never invaded another man's liberty, and 
that I preserved my own. 

9 Virtue is divided into two parts, contemplation and 
action. The one is delivered by institution, the other by 
admonition: one part of virtue consists in discipline; the 
other in exercise ; for we must first learn, and then practise. 
The sooner we begin to apply ourselves to it, and the more 
haste we make, the longer shall we enjoy the comforts of a 
rectified mind; nay, we have the fruition of it in the very 
act of forming it: but it is another sort of delight, I must 
confess, that arises from the contemplation of a soul which 
is advanced into the possession of wisdom and virtue. 

10 If it was so great a comfort to us to pass from the 
subjection of our childhood into a state of liberty and busi- 
ness, how much greater will it be when we come to cast off 
the boyish levity of our minds,! and range ourselves among 
the philosophers ? 

1 1 We are past our minority, it is true, but not our in- 
discretion; and, which is yet worse, we have the authority 
of seniors, and the weaknesses of children, (I might have 
said of infants, for every little thing frights the one, and 
every trivial fancy the other.) 

12 For virtue is open to all; as well to servants and ex- 
iles, as to princes : it is profitable to the world and to itself, 
at all distances and in all conditions ; and there is no diffi- 
culty that can excuse a man from the exercise of it. 

1 3 Nay, the mind itself has its variety of perverse plea- 
sures as well as the body; as insolence, self-conceit, pride, 

* " I know the right, and I approve it too ; 

" Condemn the wrong, and yet the wrong pursue.^— Pope. 



76 

garrulity, laziness, and the abusive wit of turning every thing 
into ridicule; whereas virtue weighs all this and corrects it 

SECTION V. 
Philosophy is the guide of Life. 

1 Philosophy* is divided into moral, natural, and ra- 
tional: the first concerns our manners ; the second searches 
the works of nature ; and the third furnishes us with pro- 
priety of words and arguments, and the faculty of distin- 
guishing, that we may not be imposed upon with tricks 
and fallacies. The causes of things fall under natural phi- 
losophy, arguments under rational, and actions under 
moral. 

2 Moral philosophy is again divided into matter of jus- 
tice, which arises from the estimation of things and of men: 
and into affections and actions ; and a failing in any one of 
these, disorders all the rest : for what does it profit us to 
know the true value of things, if we be transported by our 
passions ? or to master our appetites without understanding 
the when, the what, the how, and other circumstances of 
our proceedings ? 

3 Socrates places all philosophy in morals ; and wisdo?n 
in the distinguishing of good and evil. It is the art and law 
of life, and it teaches us what to do in all cases, and, like 
good marksmen, to hit the white at any distance. In 
poverty it gives us riches, or such a state of mind as makes 
them superfluous to us. 

4 It arms us against all difficulties ; one man is pressed 
with death, another with poverty; some with envy, others 
are offended at Providence, and unsatisfied with the coa- 
dltion of mankind: but philosophy prompts us to relieve the 
prisoner, the infirm, the necessitous, the condemned; to 
show the ignorant their errors, and rectify their affections. 

5 It makes us inspect and govern our manners ; it rouses 
us where we are faint and drowsy; it binds up what is loose, 
and humbles in us that which is contumacious; it delivers the 
mind from the bondage of the body, and raises it up to the 
contemplation of its divine original. The very shadow of 
glory carries a man of honor upon all dangers, to the con- 
tempt of fire and sword; and it were a shame if right rea- 
son should not inspire as generous resolutions into a man of 
virtue. 

* I^oye of wisdom, from two Greek words, philos and sophia. 



77 

6 As men of letters are the most useful and excellent of 
friends, so are they the best of citizens; as being better 
judges of the blessings they enjoy under a well ordered 
government, and of what they owe to the magistrate for 
their freedom and protection. They are men of sobriety 
and learning, and free from boasting and insolence; they 
reprove the vice, Without reproaching the person; for they 
have learned to be wise, without either pomp or envy. 

7 It is of the bounty of nature that we live; but oi phi- 
losophy that we live well. Not but that philosophy is also 
the gift of heaven, so far as to the faculty, but not to the sci- 
ence; for that must be the business of industry. No man 
is born wise; but wisdom and virtue require a tutor, though 
we can easily learn to be vicious without a master. 

8 It is philosophy that gives us a veneration for God, a 
charity for our neighbor, that teaches us our duty to heaven, 
and exhorts us to an agreement one with another ; it unmasks 
things that are terrible to us, refutes our errors, restrains our 
luxury, reproves our avarice. 

9 I could, never hear Attalus upon the vices of the age, 
and the errors of life, without a compassion for mankind ; 
and in his discourses upon poverty, there was something, 
methought, that was more than human. " More than we use, n 
says he, " is more than we need, and only a burden to the 
bearer." That saying of his put me out of countenance at 
the superfluities of my own fortune. 

10 And so in his invectives against vain pleasures, he did 
at such a rate advance the felicities of a sober table, a pure 
mind, and a chaste body, that a man could not hear him without 
a love for continence and moderation. Upon these lectures 
of his, I denied myself, for a while after, certain delicacies 
that I had formerly used: but in a short time I fell to them 
again, though so sparingly, that the proportion came little 
short of a total abstinence. 

1 1 Now, to show you how much more earnest my en- 
trance upon philosophy was than my progress, my tutor 
Sotion gave me a wonderful affection for Pythagoras, and 
after him for Sextius : the former forebore shedding of blood 
upon his met empsy costs ; and put men in fear of it, lest 
they should offer violence to the souls of some of their depart- 
ed friends or relations. 

12 " Whether, " says he, "there be a transmigration or 
not, if it be true, there is no hurt in it; if false, there 
is frugality; and nothing is gotten by cruelty neither, but 

G2 



78 

the cozening a wolf, perhaps, or a vulture, of a supper." 

13 Now, Sextius abstained upon another account, which 
was, that he would not have men inured to hardness of heart 
by the laceration and tormenting of living creatures; be- 
side, that nature had sufficiently provided for the sustenance 
of mankind without blood. 

14 This wrought so far upon me that I gave over eating 
of flesh, and in one year I made it not only easy to me, but 
pleasant; my mind, methought, was more at liberty, (and 
I am still of the same opinion,) but I gave it over never- 
theless; and the reason was this : It was imputed as a super- 
stition to the Jews, the forbearance of some sorts of flesh, 
and my father brought me back again to my old custom, 
that I might not be thought tainted with their superstition. 
Nay, and I had much ado to prevail upon myself to suffer 
it too. I make use of this instance to show the aptness of 
youth to take good impressions, if there be a friend at hand 
to press them. 

15 Philosophers are the tutors of mankind ; if they have 
found out remedies for the mind, it must be our part to apply 
them. I cannot think of Cato, Lelius, Socrates, Plato, with- 
out veneration ; their very names are sacred to me. 

16 The life of a philosopher is ordinate, fearless, equal, 
secure ; he stands firm in all extremities, and bears the lot 
of his humanity with a divine temper. There is a great 
difference betwixt the splendor of philosophy and of for- 
tune ; the one shines with an original light, the other with a 
borrowed one ; beside that, it makes us happy and immor- 
tal: for learning shall outlive palaces and monuments. 

17 What does it concern us which was the elder of the 
two, Homer or Hesiod ; or which was the taller, Helen or 
Hecuba? We take a great deal of pains to trace Ulysses in 
his wanderings; but were it not time as well spent to look to 
ourselves, that we may not wander at all ? 

18 Are not we ourselves tossed with tempestuous passions ? 
and both assaulted by terrible monsters on the one hand, and 
tempted by sirens on the other ? Teach me my duty to my 
country, to my father, to my wife, to mankind. What is it 
to me whether Penelope was honest or not ? teach me to know 
how to be so myself, and live according to that knowledge. 

19 What am I the better for putting so many parts to- 
gether in music, and raising a harmony out of so many dif- 
ferent tones ? teach me to tune my affections, and to hold 
constant to myself, Geometry teaches me the art of mea- 



79 

suring acres; teaeh me to measure my appetites, and to 
know when I have enough ; teach me to divide with my 
brother, and to rejoice in the prosperity of my neighbor. 

20 What can be more ridiculous than for a man to neglect 
his manners, &xi& compose his style? "Misfortunes," in 
fine, " cannot be avoided ; but they may be sweetened, if not 
overcome! and our lives may be made happy by philosophy." 

21 There seems to be so near an affinity betwixt wisdom, 
philosophy, and good counsels, that it is rather matter of cu- 
riosity than of profit to divide them ; philosophy, being only 
a limited wisdom; and good counsels a communication of 
that wisdom, for the good of others, as well as of ourselves; 
and to posterity, as well as to the present. 

22 Good counsel is the most needful service that we can 
do to mankind ; and if we give it to many, it will be sure 
to profit some: for of many trials, some or other will un- 
doubtedly succeed. He that places a man in the possession 
of himself, does a great thing ; for wisdom does not show 
itself so much in precept, as in life ; in a firmness of mind 
and a mastery of appetite: it teaches us to do as well as to 
talk : and to make our words and actions all of a color. 

23 We may be sometimes earnest in advising, but not vio- 
lent and tedious. Few words, with gentleness and efficacy, 
are best: the misery is, that the wise do not need counsel, 
and fools will not take it. A good man, it is true, delights 
in it ; and it is a mark of folly and ill-nature to hate reproof. 
To a friend I would be always frank and plain ; and rather 
fail in the success, than be wanting in the matter of faith and 
trust 



SECTION VI. 
No felicity like peace of conscience. 

1 "A good conscience is the testimony of a good life, and 
the reward of it." This is it that fortifies the mind against 
fortune, when a man has gotten the mastery of his passions; 
placed his treasure and security within himself; and learned 
to be content with his condition. 

2 He that has dedicated his mind to virtue, and to the 
good of human society, whereof he is a member, has con- 
summated the establishment of his peace. Every man has a 
judge and a witness within himself, of all the good and ill 
that he does, which inspires us with great thoughts, and ad- 
ministers to us wholesome counsels. 

3 To see a man fearless in dangers, happy in adversity. 



so 



composed in a tumult, and laughing at all those things which 
are generally either coveted or feared ; all men must acknow- 
ledge that this can be nothing else but a beam of divinity 
that influences a mortal body. A great, a good, and a right 
mind, is a kind of divinity lodged in flesh, and may be the 
blessing of a slave as well as of a prince. 

4 A good conscience fears no witness, but a guilty con- 
science is solicitous even in solitude. If we do nothing but 
what is honest, let all the world know it; but if otherwise, 
what does it signify to have nobody else know it, so long as 
I know it myself? Miserable is he that slights that witness! 

5 Wickedness, it is true, may escape the law, but not the 
conscience: for a private conviction is the first and the great- 
est punishment of offenders ; so that sin plagues itself ; and 
the fear of vengeance pursues even those that escape the 
stroke of it. It were ill for good men that iniquity may so 
easily evade the law, the judge, and the execution, if Nature 
had not set up torments and gibbets in the consciences of 
transgressors. 

6 He that is guilty lives in perpetual terror ; and while 
he expects to be punished, he punishes himself ; and whoso- 
ever deserves it expects it. What if he be not detected ? he 
is still in apprehension yet that he may be. His sleeps are 
painful, and never secure ; and he cannot speak of another 
man's wickedness without thinking of his own ; whereas a 
good conscience is a continual feast. 

7 Those are the only certain and profitable delights, which 
arise from the consciousness of a well acted life ; no matter 
for noise abroad, so long as we are quiet within: but if our 
passions be seditious, that is enough to keep us waking with- 
out any other tumult 

8 It is dangerous for a man too suddenly, or too easily to be- 
lieve himself. Wherefore let us examine, watch, observe, and 
inspect our own hearts; for we ourselves are our own greatest 
flatterers: we should every night call ourselves to account: 
"What infirmity have I mastered to-day? what passion 
opposed ? what temptation resisted ? what virtue acquired V* 

9 Our vices will abate of themselves, if they be brought 
every day to the shrift. Oh the blessed sleep that follows 
such a diary ! Oh the tranquillity, liberty, and greatness of 
that mind that is a spy upon itself, and a private censor of its 
own manners! It is my custom every night, so soon as the 
candle is out, to run over all the words and actions of the 
past day ; and I let nothing escape me. 



81 

10 A good man can never be miserable, nor a wicked man 
happy. There is not in the scale of nature, a more insepara- 
ble connexion of cause and effect, than in the case of happi- 
ness and virtue ; nor any thing that more naturally produces 
the one, or more necessarily presupposes the other. 

1 1 For what is it to be happy, but for a man to content 
himself with his lot, in a cheerful and quiet resignation to 
the appointments of God ? All the actions of our lives ought 
to be governed with respect to good and evil ; and it is only 
reason that distinguishes. It is every man's duty to make 
himself profitable to mankind: if he can, to many ; if not, to 
fewer ; if not to neither, to his neighbor ; but, however, to 
himself. 



SECTION VII. 

The due contemplation of Divine Providence is a remedy 

against all misfortunes. 

1 Whoever observes the world, and the order of it, will 
find all the motions in it, to be only the vicissitudes of fall- 
ing and rising; nothing extinguished, and even those things 
which seem to us to perish, are in truth but changed. 

2 The seasons go and return, day and night follow in their 
courses, the heavens roll, and nature goes on with her work: 
all things succeed in their turns, storms and calms; the law 
of nature will have it so, which we must follow and obey, 
accounting all things that are done to be well done: so that 
what we cannot mend we must suffer, and wait upon Provi- 
dence without repining. 

3 It is the part of a cowardly soldier to follow his com- 
nwider groaning; but a generous man delivers himself up to 
God without struggling; and it is only for a narrow mind to 
condemn the order of the world, and to propound rather the 
mending of nature than of himself. 

4 In the very methods of nature we cannot but observe 
the regard that Providence had to the good of mankind, even 
in the disposition of the world, in providing so amply for our 
maintenance and satisfaction. It is not possible for us to 
comprehend what the Power is which has made all things; 
some few sparks of that Divinity are discovered, but infi- 
nitely the greater part of it lies hid. We are all of us, how- 
ever, thus far agreed, first, in the acknowledgment and belief 
of that Almighty Being ; and, secondly, that we are to as- 
cribe to it all majesty and goodness. 

5 Fabricius took more pleasure in eating the roots of his 



82 

own planting than in all the delicacies of luxury and expense. 
Prudence and religion are .above accidents, and draw good 
out of every thing ; affliction keeps a man in use, and makes 
him strong, patient, and hardy. 

6 Providence treats us like a generous father, and brings 
us up to labors, toils, and dangers ; whereas the indulgence 
of a fond mother makes us weak and spiritless. No man 
can be happy that does not stand firm against all contin- 
gencies. 

SECTION VIII. 
Of levity of mind, and other impediments of a happy life, 

1 Now, to sum up what is already delivered, we have 
showed what happiness is, and wherein it consists ; that it is 
founded upon wisdom and virtue; for we must first know 
what we ought to do, and then live according to that know- 
ledge. 

2 We have also discoursed the helps of philosophy and 
precepts towards a happy life; the blessing of a good con- 
science ; that a good man can never be miserable, nor a 
wicked man happy ; nor any man unfortunate, that cheerfully 
submits to Providence. We shall now examine, how it 
comes to pass that, when the certain way to happiness lies so 
fair before us, men will yet steer their course on the other 
side, which as manifestly leads to ruin. 

3 There are some who live without any design at all, and 
only pass in the world like straws upon a river ; they do not 
go> but they are carried. Some there are that torment them- 
selves afresh with the memory of what is past: "Lord! what 
did I endure ? never was any man in my condition ; eve#y 
body gave me over ; my very heart was ready to break,"&c. 

4 Others, again, afflict themselves with the apprehension 
of evils to come; and very ridiculously both: for the one 
does not now concern us, and the other not yet: beside that, 
there may be remedies for mischiefs likely to happen. 

5 Levity of mind is su great hindrance to repose; it is only 
philosophy that makes the mind invincible, and places us out 
of the reach of fortune, so that all her arrows fall short of us. 
This it is that reclaims the rage of our passions, and sweetens 
the anxiety of our fears. 

6 Place me among princes or among beggars, the one shall 
not make me proud, nor the other ashamed. I can take as 
sound a sleep in a barn as in a palace, and a bundle of hay 
makes me as good a lodging as a bed of down. I will not 



83 

transport myself with either pain or pleasure; but yet for all 
that, I could wish that I had an easier game to play, and that 
I were put rather to moderate my joys than my sorrows. 

7 Never pronounce any man happy that depends upon for- 
tune for his happiness ; for nothing can be more preposterous 
than to place the good of a reasonable creature in unreason- 
able things. If I have lost any thing, it was adventitious; 
and the less money, the less trouble ; the less favor the less 
envy. 

8 That which we call our own is but lent us ; and what we 
have received gratis we must return without complaint. 
That which fortune gives us this hour, she may take away 
the next ; and he that trusts to her favor, shall either find 
himself deceived, or if he be not, he will at least be troubled, 
because he may be so. 

9 But the best of it is, if a man cannot mend his fortune, 
he may yet mend his manners, and put himself so far out of 
her reach, -that whether she gives or takes, it shall be all one 
to us ; for we are neither the greater for the one, nor the less 
for the other. 

SECTION IX. 
%/? sensual life is a miserable life. 

1 The sensuality that we here treat of, falls naturally un- 
der the head of luxury ; which extends to all excesses of 
gluttony, effeminacy of manners ; and,. in short, to whatso- 
ever concerns the over-great care of the body. 

2 To begin now with the pleasures of the palate, (which 
deal with us like Egyptian thieves, that strangle those they 
embrace,) what shall we say of the luxury of Nomentagus 
and Apicius, that entertained their very souls- in the kitchen; 
they have the choicest music for their ears ; the most divert- 
ing spectacles for their eyes; the choicest variety of meats 
and drinks for their palate. 

3 What is all this, I say, but a merry madness ? It is true 
they have their delights, but not without heavy and anxious 
thoughts, even in their very enjoyments; beside that, they 
are followed with repentance, and their frolics are little more 
than the laughter of so many people out of their wits. 

4 They cross the seas for rarities, and when they have 
swallowed them, they will not so much as give them time to 
digest. Wheresoever nature has placed men, she has provi- 
ded them aliment: but we rather choose to irritate hunger 
by expense, than to allay it at an easier rate. 



84 

5 Our forefathers (by the force of whose virtues we are 
now supported in our vices) lived every jot as well as we, 
when they provided and dressed their own meat with their 
own hands; lodged upon the ground,and were not as yet come 
to the vanit/ of gold and gems; when they swore by their 
earthen gods, and kept their oath, though they died for it. 

6 Let any man take a view of our kitchens, the number 
of our cooks, and the variety of our meats ; will he not 
wonder to see so much provision made for one stomach? 
We have as many diseases as we have cooks or meats; and 
the service of the appetite is the study now in vogue. 

7 From these compounded dishes arise compounded dis- 
eases, which require compounded medicines. It is the same 
thing with our minds that it is with our tables ; simple vices 
are curable by simple counsels, but a general dissolution of 
manners is hardly overcome ; we are overrun with a public 
as well as with a private madness. 

8 The physicians of old understood little more than the 
virtue of some herbs to stop blood, or heal a wound ; and 
their firm and healthful bodies needed little more before they 
were corrupted by luxury and pleasure; and when it came to 
that once, their business was not to allay hunger, but to pro- 
voke it by a thousand inventions and sauces. So long as our 
bodies were hardened with labor, or tired with exercise or 
hunting, our food was plain and simple; many dishes have 
made many diseases. 

9 It is an HI thing for a man not to know the measure of 
his stomach, nor to consider that men do many things in 
their drink that they are ashamed of sober; drunkenness 
being nothing else but a voluntary madness, it emboldens 
men to do all sorts of mischief; it both irritates wickedness 
and discovers it. 

10 It was in a drunken fit that Alexander killed Clytus. 
It makes him that is insolent prouder, him that is cruel 
fiercer ; it takes away all shame. He that is peevish breaks 
out presently into all ill words and blows. 

11 Luxury steals on us by degrees ; first it shows itself in 
a more than ordinary care of our bodies, it slips next into 
the furniture of our house; and it gets then into the fabric, 
curiosity, and expense of the house itself. It appears, lastly, 
in the fantastical excesses of our tables. 

12 The most miserable mortals are they that deliver them- 
selves up to their palates, or to their passions: the pleasure 
is short, and turns presently nauseous, and the end of it is 



So 
either shame or repentance. It is a brutal entertainment, and 
unworthy of a man, to place his felicity in the service of his 
senses. 

13 What a deal of business is now made about our houses 
and diet, which were at first of little expense ? Luxury led 
the way, and we have employed our wits in the aid of our 
vices. First, we desired superfluities, our next step was to 
wickedness, and, in conclusion, we delivered up our minds 
to our bodies, and so became slaves to our appetites, which 
before were our servants, and are now become our masters. 
What was it that brought us to the extravagance of embroi- 
deries, perfumes? &c. 

14 We passed the bounds of nature, and lashed out 
into superfluities; insomuch, that it is now-a-days only for 
beggars and clowns to content themselves with what is suf- 
ficient; our luxury makes us insolent and mad. How long 
shall we covet and oppress, enlarge our possession, and 
account that too little for one man which was formerly 
enough for a nation ? And our luxury is as insatiable as 
our avarice. Where is that lake, that sea, that forest, that 
spot of land, that is not ransacked to gratify our palate ? 

15 The very earth is burdened with our buildings; not a 
river, not a mountain, escapes us. Oh, that there should be 
such boundless desires in our little bodies! Would not 
fewer lodgings serre us ? We lie but in one, and where we 
are not, that is not properly ours. What with our hooks, 
snares, nets, dogs, &c. we are at war with all living crea- 
tures ; and nothing comes amiss but that which is either too 
cheap, or too common; and all this is to gratify a fantastical 
palate. 

16 Whatsoever is laid upon us by necessity, we should 
receive generously; for it is foolish to strive with what we 
caanot avoid. We are born subjects, and to obey God is 
perfect liberty. He that does this shall be free, safe, and 
quiet. Deliver me from the superstition of taking those 
things which are light and vain, for felicities. 

SECTION X. 
iflvarice and ambition are insatiable and restless. 
1 Neither does avarice make us only unhappy in our- 
selves, but malevolent also to mankind. The soldier wishes 
for war; the husbandman would have his corn dear; the 
lawyer prays for dissension ; the physician for a sickly 
year ; he that deals in curiosities, for luxury and excess; 
II 



86 

for he makes up his fortunes out of the corruptions of the 
age. 

2 To proceed now from the most prostitute of all vices, 
sensuality and avarice, to that which passes in the world 
for the most generous, the thirst of glory and dominion. If 
they that run mad after wealth and honor, could but look 
into the hearts of them that have already gained these points, 
how would it startle them to see those hideous cares and 
crimes that wait upon ambitious greatness: all those acquisi- 
tions that dazzle the eyes of the vulgar are but false plea- 
sures, slippery and uncertain. They are achieved with 
labor, and the very guard of them is painful. 

3 He that had subdued so many princes and nations, 
upon the killing of Clytus (one friend) and the loss of Hy- 
phestion (another,) delivered himself up to anger and sad- 
ness : and when he was master of the world, he was yet a 
slave to his passions. Look into Cyrus, Cambyses, and the 
whole Persian line, and you shall not find so much as one 
man of them that died satisfied with what he had gotten. 

4 Ambition aspires from great things to greater ; and pro- 
pounds matters even impossible, when it has at once arrived 
at things beyond expectation. It is a kind of dropsy ; the 
more a man drinks, the more he covets. But all superflui- 
ties are hurtful. 



SECTION XI. 
The blessings of temperance and, moderation. 

1 There is not any thing that is necessary to us but we 
have it either cheap or gratis: and this is the provision that 
our heavenly Father has made for us, whose bounty was 
never wanting to our needs. It is true, the appetite craves 
and calls upon us, but then a small matter contents it. 

2 As for meat, clothes, and lodging, a little feeds the body, 
and as little covers it; so that if mankind would only attend 
human nature, without gaping at superfluities, a cook would 
be found as needless as a soldier: for we may have necessa- 
ries upon very easy terms; whereas, we put ourselves to 
great pains for excesses. 

3 It is pride and curiosity that involves us in difficulties: 
if nothing will serve a man but rich clothes and furniture, 
statues and plate, a numerous train of servants, and the rari- 
ties of all nations, it is not fortune's fault, but his own, that 
he is not satisfied ; for his desires are insatiable, and this is 
not a thirst, but a disease. 



87 

4 While nature lay in common, and all her benefits were 
promiscuously enjoyed, what could be happier than the state 
of mankind, when people lived without avarice or envy ? 

5 Happy is that man that eats only for hunger, and drinks 
only for thirst; that stands upon his own legs, and lives by 
reason, not example ; and provides for use and necessity, not for 
ostentation and pomp. Let us curb our appetites, encourage 
virtue, and rather be beholden to ourselves for riches, than 
to fortune ; who, when a man draws himself into a narrow 
compass, has the least mark at him. 

6 Let my bed be plain and clean, and my clothes so too : 
my meat without much expense, or many waiters, and neither 
a burden to my purse tior to my body. That which is too 
little for luxury, is abundantly enough for nature. 

SECTION XII. 

Constancy of mind gives a man reputation, * and makes 

him happy in despite of all misfortune. 

1 We have examples in all ages, and in all cases, of great 
men that have triumphed over all misfortune. Metellus 
suffered exile resolutely, Rutilius cheerfully; Socrates dis- 
puted in the dungeon ; and though he might have made his 
escape, refused it ; to show the world how easy a thing it 
was to subdue the two great terrors of mankind, death and 
a jail. 

2 Let us but consult history, and we shall find, even in 
the most effeminate of nations, and the most dissolute of 
times, men of all degrees, ages, and fortunes, nay, even 
women themselves, that have overcome the fear of death : 
which, in truth, is so little to be feared, that duly considered, 
it is one of the greatest benefits of nature. 

3 If we turn our backs once, we are routed and pursued , 
that man only is happy that draws good out of evil, that 
stands fast in his judgment, and unmoved with any external 
violence ; or, however, so little moved, that the keenest 
arrow in the quiver of fortune is but as the prick of a needle 
to him rather than a wound ; and all her other weapons fall 
upon him only as hail upon the roof of a house, that crackles 
and skips off again, without any damage to the inhabitant. 

4 Not that I pretend to exempt a wise man out of the 
number of men, as if he had no sense of pain; but I reckon 
him as compounded of body and soul; the body is irrational, 
and may be galled, burnt, tortured; but the rational part is 
fearless, invincible, and not to be shaken. 



58 

5 Whatsoever is necessary, we must bear patiently. It 
is no new thing to die, no ne\V thing to mourn, and no new 
thing to be merry again. Must I be poo?*? I shall have 
company: If I die, I shall be no more sick; and it is a thing 
L cannot do but once. 

6 Let us never wonder at any thing we are born to; for 
no man has reason to complain, where we are all in the same 
condition. He that escapes might have suffered; and it is 
but equal to submit to the law of mortality. We must un- 
dergo the colds of winter, the heats of summer: the distem- 
per of the air, and the diseases of the body. 

7 A wild beast meets us in one place, and a man that is 
more brutal in another: we are here assaulted by fire, there 

by water. Demetrius was reserved by Providence for the 
age he lived in, to show, that neither the times could cor- 
rupt him, nor he reform the people. It is the part of a great 
mind to be temperate in prosperity, resolute in adversity, 
and to prefer a mediocrity to an excess. 

SECTION XIII. 

Our happiness depends in a greajk measure upon the' 

choice of our company. 

1 The comfort of life depends upon conversation. Good 
offices, and concord, and human eociety, are like the work- 
ing of an arch of stone, all would fall to the ground if one 
pfece did not support another. Above all things let us have 
a tenderness for blood; and it is yet too little not to hurt, 
unless we profit one another. 

2 We are to relieve the distressed; to put the wanderer 
into hie way; and to divide our bread with the hungry: 
which is but the doing of good to ourselves; for we are only 
several members of one great body. 

3 Nay, we are all of a consanguinity; formed of the 
same materials, and designed to the same end ; this obliges 
us to a mutual tenderness and converse ; and the other, to live 
with a regard to equity and justice. The love of society is 
natural; but the choice of our company is matter of virtue 
and prudence. 

4 Noble examples stir us up to noble actions; and the very 
history of large and public souls, inspires a man with gene- 
rous thoughts. It makes a man long to be in action, and 
doing something that the world may be the better for; as 
protecting the weak, delivering the oppressed, punishing 
the insolent. 



89 

5 As an ill air may endanger a good constitution, so may 
a place of ill example endanger a good man. Nay, there are 
some places that have a kind of privilege to be licentious; 
and where luxury and dissolution of manners seem to be 
lawful; for great examples give both authority and excuse to 
wickedness. Those places are to be avoided as dangerous 
to our manners. Hannibal himself was unmanned by the 
looseness of Campania; and though a conqueror by his arms, 
he was overcome by his pleasures. 

6 The best conversation is with the philosophers; that is 
to say, with such of them as teach us matter, not words; 
that preach to us things necessary, and keep us to the prac- 
tice of them. The best way is to retire, and associate only 
with those that may be the better for us, and we for them. 
These respect! are mutual ; for while we teach, we learn. To 
deal freely, I dare not trust myself in the hands of much 
company; I never go abroad that I come home again the 
same man I went out. 



SECTION XIV. 

The blessings of friendship. 

1 Of all felicities, the most charming 'is that of 2. firm and 
gentle friendship. It sweetens all our cares, dispels our 
sorrows, and counsels us in all extremities. Nay, if there 
were no other comfort in it than the bare exercise of so gen- 
erous a virtue, even for that single reason, a man would not 
be without it. 

2 But we are not yet to number our friends by the visits 
that are made us; and to confound the decencies of cere- 
mony and* commerce with the offices of united affections. 
The great difficulty rests in the choice of him : that is to 
say, in the first place, let him be virtuous, for vice is con- 
tagious, and there is no trusting of the sound and the sick 
together ; and he ought to be a wise man too, if a body 
knew where to find him; but in this case, he that is least ill 
is best 

3 That friendship where men's affections are cemented by 
an equal and by a common love of goodness, it is not either 
hope or fear, or any private interest, that can ever dissolve 
it; but we carry it with us to our graves, and lay down our 
lives for it with satisfaction. 

4 Paulina's* good and mine were so wrapped up together 

* Seneca's wife. 
H2 



90 

that in consulting her comfort I provided for my own; and 
when I could not prevail upon her to take less care for me, 
she prevailed upon me to take more care for myself. 

5 But let us have a care, above all things, that our kind- 
ness be rightfully founded ; for where there is any other 
invitation to friendship than the friendship itself, that friend- 
ship will be bought and sold. He derogates from the ma- 
jesty of it, that makes it only dependent upon good fortune. 

6 It is a narrow consideration for a man to please himself 
in the thought of a friend, " because," says he, "I shall 
have one to help me when I am sick, in prison, or in want." 
A brave man should rather take delight in the contemplation 
of doing the same offices for another. 

7 He that loves a man for his own sake, is in an error. A 
friendship of interest cannot last any longer tfcan the interest 
itself ; and this is the reason that men in prosperity are so 
much followed, and when a man goes down the wind, nobody 
comes near him. Temporary friends will never stand the 
test. It is a negotiation, not a friendship, that has an eye 
to advantages* 

SECTION XV. 
He that would be happy must take an account of his time. 

1 The shortness of life is the common complaint both of 
fools and philosophers; as if the time we have were not suf- 
ficient for our duties. But* it is with our lives as with our 
©states, a good husband makes a little go a great way: where- 
as, let the revenue of a prince fall into the hands of a prodi- 
gal, it is gone in a moment. 

2 So that the time allotted us, if it were weir employed, 
were abundantly enough to answer all the ends and purposes 
of mankind. You shall have some people perpetually play- 
ing with their fingers, whistling, humming, and talking to 
themselves; and others consume their days in the composing, 
hearing, or reciting of songs and lampoons. 

S How many precious mornings do we spend in consul- 
tation with barbers and tailors, patching and painting, be- 
twixt the comb and the glass ? The truth is, we are more 
solicitous about our dress than our manners, and about '* ft 
order of our periwigs than that of the government. 

4 While we are young, we may learn; our minds au 
tractable, and our bodies fit for labor and study; but when 
age comes on, we are seized with languor and sloth, afflicted 
with diseases, and at last we leave the world as ignorant as 



91 

we oarne into it; only we die worse than we were born; 
which is none of nature's fault, but ours; for our fears, sus- 
picions, perfidy, &c. are from ourselves. 

5 I wish, with all my soul, that I had thought of my end 
sooner, but I must make the more haste now, and spur on, 
like those that set out late upon a journey; it will be better to 
learn late than not at all, though it be but only to instruct me 
how I may leave the stage with honor. 

6 What greater folly can there be in the world than this 
loss of time, the future being so uncertain, and the dam- 
ages so irreparable ? There is nothing that we can properly 
call our own but our time, and yet every body fools us out 
of it that has a mind to it. 

7 He that takes away a day from me, takes away what he 
can never restore me. But our time is either forced away 
from us, or stolen from us, or lost; of which the last is the 
foulest miscarriage. It is in life as in a journey: a book or 
a companion brings us to our lodging before we thought we 
were half way. 

SECTION XVI. 
Happy is the man that may choose his own. business. 

1 Oh the blessings of privacy and leisure ! The wish of 
the powerful and eminent, but the privilege only of inferiors; 
who are the only people that live to themselves. A wise man 
is never so busy as in the solitary contemplation of God and 
the works of nature. He withdraws himself to attend the ser- 
vice of future ages: and those counsels which he finds salutary 
to himself, he commits to writing for the good of after times, 
as we do the receipts of sovereign antidotes or balsams. 

2 He that is well employed in his study, though he may 
seem to do nothing at all, does the greatest things of all 
others, in affairs both human and divine. To supply a friend 
with a sum of money, or give my voice for an office, these 
are only private and particular obligations ; but he that lays 
down precepts for the governing of our lives and the mode- 
rating of our passions, obliges human nature not only in the 
present, but in all succeeding generations. 

g He that would be at quiet, let him repair to his philoso- 
ky, a study that has credit with all sorts of men. The 
..*>quence of the bar, or whatsoever else addresses to the 
people, is never without enemies; but philosophy minds its 
own business, and even the worst have an esteem for it. 
There can never be such a conspiracy against virtue, the 



92 

world can never be so wicked, but the very name of & phi- 
losopher shall still continue venerable and sacred. 

4 It is not that solitude, or a country life, teaches inno- 
cence or frugality; but vice falls of itself, without witnesses 
and spectators, for the thing it designs is to be taken notice 
of. Did ever any man put on rich clothes not to be seen? or 
spread the pomp of his luxury where nobody was to take 
notice of it? If it were not for admirers and spectators 
there would be no temptations to excess: the very keeping 
of us from exposing them cures us of desiring them, for 
vanity and intemperance are fed with ostentation. 

5 We cannot call these people men of leisure that are 
wholly taken up with their pleasures. A troublesome life is 
much to be preferred before a slothful one; and it is a strange 
thing, methinks, that any man should fear death that has 
buried himself alive ; as privacy, without letters, is but the 
burying of a man quick. 

6 It is the part of a good patriot to prefer men of worth ; 
to defend the innocent ; to provide good laws ; and to advise 
in war and in peace. But is not he as good a patriot that 
instructs youth in virtue ; that furnishes the world with pre- 
cepts of morality, and keeps human nature within the bounds 
of right reason ? Who is the greater man, he that pronounces 
a sentence upon the bench, or he that in his study reads us 
a lecture of justice, piety, patience, fortitude, and the bless- 
ing of a good conscience ? 



SECTION XVII. 
Jigainst immoderate sorrow for the death of friends. 

1 To lament the death of a friend is both natural and just ; 
a sigh or a tear I would allow to his memory; but no profuse 
or obstinate sorrow. 

2 But do I grieve for my friend's sake, or for my own ? 
We are apt to say, " What would I give to see him again, 
and to enjoy his conversation ; I was never sad in his com- 
pany ; my heart leaped whenever I met him ; I want him 
wherever I go." All that is to be said is, " The greater the 
loss, the greater is the virtue to overcome it." 

3 If grieving will do no good, it is an idle thing to grieve; 
and if that which has befallen one man remains to all, it is 
as unjust to complain. The whole world is upon the march 
towards the same point; why do we not cry for ourselves 
that are to follow, as well as for him that is gone first? Why 



93 

do we not as well lament beforehand for that which we know 
will be, and cannot possibly but be. 

SECTION XVIII. 
Mediocrity the best state of fortune. 

1 All I desire is, that my poverty may not be a burden 
to myself, or make me so to others; and that is the best state 
of fortune that is neither directly necessitous, nor far from 
it. A mediocrity of fortune, with a gentleness of mind, will 
preserve us from fear of envy ; which is a desirable condition, 
for no man wants power to do mischief. \Ve never consider 
the blessing of coveting nothing, and the glory of being full 
in ourselves, without depending upon fortune. 

2 With parsimony, a little is sufficient ;, and without it, 
nothing; whereas frugality makes a poor man rich. If we lose 
an estate, we had better never have had it: he that has least 
to lose, has least to fear; and those are better satisfied whom 
fortune never favored, than those whom she has forsaken. 

3 The state is most commodious that lies betwixt poverty 
and plenty. Diogenes understood this very well, when he 
put himself into an incapacity of losing any thing. That 
course of life is most commodious which is both safe and 
wholesome ; the body is to be indulged no farther than for 
health ; and rather mortified than not kept in subjection to 
the mind. 

4 It is necessary to provide against hunger, thirst, and 
cold; and somewhat for a covering to shelter us against other 
inconveniences ; but not a pin-matter whether it be of turf 
or of marble. A man may lie as warm and as dry under a 
thatched as under a gilded roof. Let the mind be great and 
glorious, and all other things are despicable in comparison. 
"The future is uncertain; and I had rather beg of myseM 
not to desire any thing, than of fortune to bestow it." 

ABRIDGMENT OF SENECA ? S TREATISE ON ANGER. 

SECTION XIX, 
Anger described ; it is against nature. 

1 We are here to encounter the most outrageous, brutal, 
dangerous, and intractable of all passions ; the most loath- 
some and unmannerly ; nay, the most ridiculous too; and 

^e subduing of this monster will do a great deal toward the 
establishment of human peace. 

2 Anger is the desire, not the power and faculty of re- 
venge : Reason deliberates before it judges; but anger passes 



94 

sentence without deliberation, treason only attends the 
matter in hand ; but anger is startled at every accident: it 
passes the bounds of reason, and carries it away with it. 

3 In short, " anger is an agitation of the mind that pro- 
ceeds to the resolution of a revenge, the mind assenting to 
it." But anger may undoubtedly be overcome by caution 
and good counsel ; for it is a voluntary vice, and not of the 
condition of those accidents that befall us as frailties of our 
humanity. 

4 It is an idle thing to pretend that we cannot govern our 
anger ; for some things that we do are much harder than 
others that we ought to do ; the wildest affections may be 
tamed by discipline, and there is hardly any thing which the 
mind will do, but it may do. There needs no more argu- 
ment in this case than the instance of several persons, both 
powerful and impatient, that have got the absolute mastery 
of themselves in this point. 

5 Thrasippus, in his drink, fell foul upon the cruelties of 
Pisistratus; who, when he was urged by several about him to 
make an example of him, returned this answer, " Why should 
I be angry with a man that stumbles upon me blindfold ?" 

6 The moderation of Antigonus was remarkable. Some 
of his soldiers were railing at him one night, where there was 
but a hanging betwixt them. Antigonus overheard them, 
and putting it gently aside, " Soldiers," says he, "stand a 
little farther off, for fear the king should hear you. " 

7 And we are to consider, not only violent examples, but 
moderate, where there wanted neither cause of displeasure 
nor power of revenge : As in the case of Antigonus, who, 
the same night hearing his soldiers cursing him for bringing 
them into so foul a way, he went to them, and without tell- 
ing them who he was,- helped them out of it. "Now," says 
he, " you may be allowed to curse him that brought you into 
the mire, provided you bless him that took you out of it." 

8 It was a strong provocation that which was given to 
Philip of Macedon, the father of Alexander. The Athenians 
sent their ambassadors to him, and they were received with 
this compliment, "Tell me, gentlemen," says Philip, "what 
is there that I can do to oblige the Athenians ?" Democharas, 
one of the ambassadors, told him, that they would take it for 
a great obligation if he would be pleased to hang himself. 

9 This insolence gave an indignation to the bystanders; 
but Philip bade them not to meddle with him, but even to let 
that foul mouthed fellow go as he came. "And for you, the 



V5 
rest of the ambassadors/' says he, " pray tell the Athenians, 
that it is worse to speak such things than to hear and forgive 
them." This wonderful patience under contumelies was a 
great means of Philip's security. 

SECTION XX. 
Anger is a short madness ; and a deformed, vice. 

1 He was much in the right, whoever it was, that first 
called anger a short madness ; for they have both of them 
the same symptoms ; and there is so wonderful a resemblance 
betwixt the transports of choler and those of frenzy ', that 
it is a hard matter to know the one from the other. 

2 A bold, fierce, and threatening countenance, as pale as 
ashes, and, in the same moment, as red as blood; a glaring 
eye, a wrinkled brow, violent motions, the hands restless and 
perpetually in action, wringing and menacing, snapping of 
the joints, stamping with the feet, the hair starting, trem- 
bling lips, a forced and squeaking voice ; the speech false and 
broken, deep and frequent sighs, and ghastly looks ; the veins 
swell, the heart pants, the knees knock ; with a hundred dis- 
mal accidents that are common to both distempers. 

3 Neither is anger a bare resemblance only of madness, 
but many times an irrevocable transition into the thing itself. 
How many persons have we known, read, and heard of, that 
have lost their wits in a passion, and never came to themselves 
again ? It is therefore to be avoided, not only for moderation's 
sake, but also for health. 

4 Now, if the outward appearance of anger be so foul and 
hideous, how deformed must that miserable mind be, that is 
harassed with it ? for it leaves no place either for counsel or 
friendship, honesty or good manners; no place either for the 
exercise of reason, or for the offices of life. 

5 If I were to describe it, I would draw a tiger bathed in 
blood, sharp teeth, and ready to take a leap at his prey; or 
dress it up as poets represent the furies, with whips, snakes, 
and flames; it should be sour, livid, full of scars, and wallow- 
ing in gore, raging up and down, destroying, grinning, bel- 
lowing, and pursuing ; sick of all other things, and most of 
all itself. It turns beauty into deformity, and the calmest 
counsels into fierceness: it disorders our very garments, and 
fills the mind with horror. 

6 How abominable is it in the soul then, when it appears 
so hideous even through the bones, the skin, and so many im- 
pediments ? Is he not a madman that has lost the govern- 



96 

ment of himself, and is tossed hither and thither by his fury, 
as by a tempest ? the executioner and the murderer of his 
nearest friends ? The smallest matter moves it, and makes 
us unsociable and inaccessible. It does all things by vio- 
lence, as well upon itself as others; and it is, in short, the 
master of all passions. 

7 A vice that carries along with it neither pleasure nor 
profit, neither honor nor security ; but on the contrary, de- 
stroys us to all the comfortable- .and glorious purposes of our 
reasonable being. Some there Ire, that will have the root 
of it to be the greatness of mind. 

8 And, why may we not as well entitle impudence to 
courage j whereas the one is proud, the other brave ; the one 
is gracious and gentle, the other rude and furious ? At the 
same rate, we may ascribe magnanimity to avarice, luxury, 
and ambition, which are all but splendid impotences, with- 
out measure and without foundation. 

9 There is nothing great but what is virtuous, nor indeed 
truly great, but what is also composed and quiet. Anger, 
alas! is but a. wild impetuous blast, an empty tumor, the very 
infirmity of children; a brawling, clamorous evil: and the 
more noise the less courage ; as we find it commonly, that 
the boldest tongues have the faintest hearts. 



SECTION XXI. 
Anger is neither warrantable nor useful. 

1 In the first place, anger is unwarrantable, as it is un- 
just : for it falls many times upon the wrong person, and 
discharges itself upon the innocent instead of the guilty. 

2 Secondly, It is unsociable to the highest point ; for it 
spares neither friend nor foe ; but tears all to pieces, and casts 
human nature into a perpetual state of war. 

3 Thirdly, It is to no purpose. "It is a sad thing," we 
cry, " to put up these injuries, and we are not able to bear 
them;" as if any man that can bear anger could not bear an 
injury, which is much more supportable. Nor is it for the 
dignity pf virtue to be either angry or sad. 

4 It is with a tainted mind as with an ulcer, not only the 
touch, but the very offer at it, makes us shrink and complain; 
when we come once to be carried off from our poise, we are 
lost. Besides, that the greatest punishment of an injury is 
the consciousness of having done it ; and no man suffers 
more than he that is turned over to the pain of a repentance. 

5 But "mav not an honest man then be allowed to be 



97 

angry at the murdering of his father, or the ravishing of his 
sister or his daughter before his face ?" No, not at all. I will 
defend my parents, and I will repel the injuries that are done 
them ; but it is my piety, and not my anger, that moves me 
to it. I will do my duty without fear or confusion; I will 
not rage, I will not weep ; but discharge the office of a good 
man without forfeiting the dignity of a man. 

6 If my father be assaulted, I will endeavor to rescue 
him; if he be killed, I will do right to his memory; and all 
this, not in any transport of passion, but in honor and con- 
science. Neither is there any need of anger where reason 
does the same thing. A man may be temperate, and yet 
vigorous, and raise his mind according to the occasion, more 
or less, as a stone is thrown according to the discretion and 
intent of the caster. 

7 If anger were sufferable in any case, it might be allowed 
against an incorrigible criminal under the hand of justice: 
but punishment is not matter of anger, but of caution. The 
law is without passion, and strikes malefactors as we do ser- 
pents, and venomous creatures, for fear of greater mischief. 

S It is not for the dignity of a judge, when he comes to 
pronounce the fatal sentence, to express any emotions of anger 
in his looks, words or gestures; for he condemns the- vice, 
not the man; and looks upon the wickedness without anger. 
Justice cannot be angry; nor is there any need of an angry 
magistrate for the punishment of foolish and wicked men. 
The power of life and death must not be managed with pas- 
sion. We give a horse the spur that is restiff or jadish, and 
tries to cast his rider: but this is without anger too, and only 
to take down his stomach, and bring him, by correction, to 
obedience. 

9 The end of all correction is either the amendment of 
wicked men, or to prevent the influence of ill example: for 
men are punished with a respect to the future ; not to expiate 
offences committed, but for fear of worse to come. There 
are no greater slaves certainly, than those that serve anger ; 
for they improve their misfortunes by an impatience more 
insupportable than the calamity that causes it. 

10 Nor does it rise by degrees, as other passions, but 
flashes like gunpowder, blowing up all in a moment. Nei- 
ther does it only press to the mark, but overbears every thing 
in the way to it. Other vices drive us, but this hurries us 
headlong; other passions stand firm themselves, though per- 
haps w r e cannot resist them ; but this consumes and destroys 



98 
itself; it falls like thunder or a tempest, with an irrevocable 
violence, that gathers strength in the passage, and then evapo- 
rates in the conclusion. 

11 Other vices are unreasonable, but this is xmhealthful 
too; other distempers have their intervals and degrees, but 
in this we are thrown down as from a precipice: there is not 
anything so amazing to others, or so destructive to itself: so 
proud and insolent, if it succeeds, or so extravagant, if it 
be disappointed. 

12 We find that elephants will be made familiar ; bulls 
will suffer children to ride upon their backs, and play with 
their horns; bears and lions, by good usage, will be brought 
to fawn upon their masters ; how desperate a madness is it 
then for men, after the reclaiming the fiercest of beasts, and 
the bringing of them to be tractable and domestic, to become 
yet worse than beasts one to another ? 

13 Alexander had two friends, Clytus and Lysimachus ; 
the one he exposed to a lion, the other to himself ; and he 
that was turned loose to the beast escaped. Why do we not 
rather make the best of a short life, and render ourselves 
amiable to all while we live, and desirable when we die ? 

14 For does any man know but that he that is now our 
enemy, may come hereafter to be our friend, over and above 
the reputation of clemency and good nature ? And what can 
be more honorable or comfortable, than to exchange a feud 
for a friendship ? 

15 But, however, if it be our fortune to transgress, let not 
our anger descend to the children, friends, or relations, even 
of our bitterest enemies. The very cruelty of Sylla was 
heightened by that instance of incapacitating the issue of 
the proscribed. It js inhuman, to entail the hatred we have 
for the father, upon his posterity. 

16 A good and a wise man is not to be an enemy of wick- 
ed men, but a reprover of them ; and he is to look upon all 
the drunkards, the licentious, the thankless, covetous, and 
ambitious, that he meets with, no otherwise than as a physi- 
cian looks upon his patients. Democritus laughed, and He- 
raclitus wept, at the folly and wickedness of the world, but 
we never read of an angry philosopher. 

17 To take a farther view, now, of the miserable conse- 
quences and sanguinary effects of this hideous distemper ; 
from hence come slaughters and poisons, wars, and desola- 
tions, the razing and burning of cities: the unpeopling of na- 
tions, and the turning of populous countries into deserts: 



99 
public massacres and regicides: princes led in triumph: some 
murdered in their bed-chambers: others stabbed in the senate, 
or cut off in the security of their spectacles and pleasures. 

18 It was a severe instance, that of Piso too. A soldier 
that had leave of absence to go abroad with his comrade, 
came back to the camp at his time, but without his com- 
panion. Piso condemns him to die, as if he had killed him, 
and appoints a centurion to see the execution. Just as the 
headsman was ready to do his office, the other soldier ap- 
peared, to the great joy of the whole field, and the centurion 
bade the executioner hold his hand. 

19 Hereupon Piso, in a rage, mounts the tribunal, and 
sentences all three to death ; the one because he was con- 
demned, the other because it was for his sake that his fellow- 
soldier was condemned, the centurion for not obeying the 
order of his superior. An ingenious piece of inhumanity, 
to contrive how to make three criminals where effectually 
there were none. 

20 There was a Persian king that caused the noses of a 
whole nation to be cut off, and they were to thank him 
that he spared their heads. And this, perhaps, would have 
been the fate of the Macrobii, (if Providence had not hinder- 
ed it,) for the freedom they used to Cambyses' ambassadors, 
in not accepting the slavish terms that were offered them. 

21 This put Cambyses into such a rage, that he presently 
enlisted into his service every man that was able to bear arms; 
and, without either provisions or guides, marched immedi- 
ately through dry and barren deserts, and where never any 
man had passed before him, to take his revenge. Before he 
was a third part of the way, his provisions failed him. 

22 His men, at first, made shift with the buds of trees, 
boiled leather, and the like; but soon after there was not so 
much as a root or a plant to be gotten, nor a living creature to 
be seen; and then by lot every tenth man was to die for a nour- 
ishment to the rest, which was still worse than the famine. 

23 But yet this passionate king went on so far, until one 
part of. his army was lost, and the other devoured, and until 
he feared that he himself might come to be served with the 
same sauce. So that at last he ordered a retreat, wanting no 
delicates all this while for himself, while his soldiers were 
taking their chance who should die miserably, or live worse. 
Here was an anger taken up against a whole nation, that 
neither deserved any ill from him, nor was so much as known 
to him. 



100 



SECTION XXII. 
Advice in the cases of contumely and revenge. 

1 Of provocations to anger there are two sorts; there is 
an injury, and there is a contumely. The former, in its own 
nature, is the heavier ; the other, slight in itself, and only 
troublesome to a wounded imagination. And yet some there 
are that will bear blows, and death itself, rather than contu- 
melious words. A contumely is an indignity below the 
consideration of the very law; and not worthy either of a 
revenge, or so much as a complaint. 

2 It is only the vexation and infirmity of a weak mind, 
as well as the practice of a haughty and insolent nature, and 
signifies no more to a wise and sober man than an idle dream, 
that is no sooner past than forgotten. It is true, it implies 
contempt; but what needs any man care for being contempt- 
ible to others, if he be not so to himself ? 

3 It is a wretched condition to stand in awe of every body 's 
tongue; and whosoever is vexed at a reproach, would be 
proud if he were commended. We should look upon con- 
tumelies, slanders, and ill words, only as the clamor of ene- 
mies, or arrows shot at a distance, that make a clattering upon 
our arms, but do no execution. 

4 A man makes himself less than his adversary by fancy- 
ing that he is contemned. Things are only ill that are ill 
taken; and it is not for a man of worth to think himself bet- 
ter or worse for the opinion of others. 

5 A physician is not angry at the intemperance of a mad 
patient; nor does he take it ill to be railed at by a man in a 
fever: just so should a wise man treat vicious men, as a phy- 
sician does his patient. In these cases, the rule is to pardon 
all offences, where there is any sign of repentance, or hope 
of amendment. It does not hold in injuries as in benefits, 
the requiting of ^the one with the other ; for it is a shame to 
overcome in the one, and in the other to be overcome. 

6 It is the part of a great mind to despise injuries; and it 
is one kind of revenge to neglect a man as not worth it; for 
it makes the first aggressor too considerable. Our philoso- 
phy, methinks, might carry us up to the bravery of a gene- 
rous mastiff, that can hear the barking of a thousand curs 
without taking any notice of them. 

7 Fidus Cornelius (a tall, slim fellow,) fell downright a 
crying in the senate house at Corbulo's saying that "he 
looked like an ostrich," 



101 

8 A careful education is a great matter; for our minds ar<* 
easily formed in our youth, but it is a harder business to 
cure ill habits. There is nothing breeds anger more than a 
soft and effeminate education; and it is very seldom seen 
that either the mother's or the schoolmaster's darling ever 
comes to good. But my young master ', when he comes into 
the world, behaves himself like a choleric coxcomb; for flat- 
tery, and a great fortune, nourish petulance. 

9 He that is naturally addicted to anger, let him use a 
moderate diet, and abstain from wine; for it is but adding 
fire to fire. So long as we are among men, let us cherish 
humanity, and so live that no man may be either in fear or 
in danger of us. 

10 There is hardly a more effectual remedy against anger 
than patience and consideration. Nor is it fit that a servant 
should be in his power that is not his own master. Why 
Should any one venture now to trust an angry man with a 
revenge, when Plato durst not trust himself? Either he must 
govern that, or that will undo him. 

1 1 It is. a good caution not to believe any thing until we 
are very certain of it; for many probable things prove false, 
and a short time will make evidence of tire undoubted truth. 
If it be my duty to love my country, I must be kind also to 
my countrymen; if a veneration be due to the whole, so is a 
piety also to the parts; and it is the common interest to pre- 
serve them. 

12 We are all members of one body, and it is as natural to 
help one another as for the hands to help the feet, or the 
eyes the hands. Without the love and care of the parts, the 
whole can never be preserved, and we must spare one an- 
other, because we are born for society, which cannot be main- 
tained without a regard to particulars. Let this be a rule to 
us, never to deny a pardon that does no hurt either to the 
giver or receiver. 

13 It is a kind of spiteful comfort, that whoever does me 
an injury may receive one; and that there is a power over 
him that is above me. A man should stand as firm against 
all indignities as a rock does against the waves. 

14 It is not prudent to deny a pardon to any man, without 
first examining if we stand not in need of it ourselves; for 
it may be our lot to ask it, even at his feet, to whom we re- 
fuse it. But we are willing enough to do what we are very 
unwilling to suffer. It is unreasonable to charge public vices 
upon particular persons; for we are all of us wicked, and 

1 2 



102 

that which we blame in others we find in ourselves. It is 
uot a paleness in one, or a leanness in another, but a pesti- 
lence that has laid hold upon all. 

15 It is a wicked world, and we make part of it; and the 
way to be quiet is to bear one with another. "Such a man," 
we cry, " has done me a shrewd turn, and I never did him 
any hurt." Well, but it may be I have injured other people, 
or, at least, I may live to do as much to him as that comes 
to. " Such a one has spoken ill things of me ;" but if I first 
speak ill of him, as I do of many others, this is not an injury, 
but a repayment. 

16 Before we lay any thing to heart, let us ask ourselves 
if w r e have not done the same thing to others. We carry our 
neighbors' crimes in sight, and we throw our own over our 
shoulders. We cry out presently, " What law have we trans- 
gressed V 9 As if the letter of the law were the sum of our 
duty, and that piety, humanity, liberality, justice and faith, 
were things beside our business. 

17 No, no; the rule of human duty is of a greater latitude; 
and we have many obligations upon us that are not to be 
found in the statute books. And, to wind up all in one 
word, the great lesson of mankind, as well in this as in all 
other cases, is, " to do as we would be done by." 



103 



PART FOURTH. 

ABRIDGMENT OF THE LAW OF NATURE, AND THE 
ECONOMY OF HUMAN LIFE. 



CHAPTER 1. 

ABRIDGMENT OP THE LAW OF NATURE, OR PRINCIPLES OP 
MORALITY, DEDUCED FROM THE PHYSICAL CONSTITUTION 
OF MANKIND AND THE UNIVERSE. 

For, when the Gentiles, which have not the law, do by nature the 
things contained in the law, these having* not the law, are a law unto 
themselves ; which show the work of the law written in their hearts, their 
conscience also bearing them witness, and their thoughts the mean while 
accusing, or else excusing one another. — Paul. 

SECTION I. 
The law of nature defined, and illustrated, by examples. 

1 WHAT is the law of nature ? It is the regular and con- 
stant order of events according to which God rules the uni- 
verse; the order which his wisdom presents to the senses 
and reason of mankind, to serve them as an equal and gene- 
ral rule of action, and to conduct them without distinction of 
country or sect, towards happiness and perfection. 

2 Now, since the actions of each individual, or of each 
class of beings, are subject to constant and general rules, which 
cannot be departed from without changing and disturbing 
some general or particular order of things, to these rules of 
action and motion, is given the name of natural laws, or laws 
of nature. 

3 Give me examples of these laws. It is a law of nature 
that the sun enlightens in succession every part of the surface 
of the terrestrial globe; that his presence excites light and 
heat; that heat acting on the waters produces vapors; that 
these vapors raised in clouds into the higher regions of the 
atmosphere, form themselves into rain^tnd snow, and supply, 
without ceasing, the water of springs and rivers. 

4 It is a law of nature that water flows from an upper to a 
lower situation; that it seeks its level; that it is heavier than 
air; that all bodies tend towards the earth; that flame rises 



104 

towards the sky ; that it destroys the organization of vegeta- 
bles and animals; that air is essential to the life of certain 
animals; that in certain cases water suffocates and kills them; 
that certain juices of plants, and certain minerals, attack their 
organs, and destroy their life; and the same of a variety c£ 
facts. 

5 Now, since these facts, and many similar ones are con- 
stant, regular, immutable, they become so many real and 
positive commands to which man is bound to conform, under 
the express penalty of punishment attached to their infrac- 
tion, or well-being connected with their observance. 

6 So that if a man were to pretend to see clearly in the 
dark, or is regardless of the progress of the seasons, or the 
action of the elements : if he pretends to exist under water 
without drowning ; to handle fire without burning himself; 
to deprive himself of air without suffocating; or to drink 
poison without destroying himself, he receives from each 
infraction of the law of nature, a corporal punishment pro- 
portioned to his transgression. 

7 If, on the contrary, he observes these laws, and founds 
his practice on the precise and regular relation which they 
bear to him, he preserves his existence, and renders it as hap- 
py as it is capable of being rendered ; and since all these laws, 
considered in relation to the human species, have in view 
only one common end, that of their preservation and their 
happiness; whence it has been agreed to assemble together 
the different ideas, and express them by a single word, and 
call them collectively by the name of the law of nature. 



SECTION II. 
Characters of the lata of nature. 

1 What are the characters of the law of nature ? We may 
reckon nine principal ones. What is the first ? To be inhe- 
rent in, and essential to the existence of things. What is the 
second ? It is to emanate immediately from God, and to be 
by him offered to the contemplation of every man. What is 
the third ? It is to be common to every time and country ; 
that is, to be one and universal. 

2 What is the fourth character ? That of being uniform 
and invariable* What is the fifth character ? To be evident 
and palpable, since it consists wholly of facts ever present to 
our senses, and capable of demonstration. What is the sixth 
character? To be reasonable; because its precepts, and its 



105 
whole doetrine, are conformable to reason, and agreeable to 
the human understanding. 

3 What is the seventh character ? To be just, because in 
this law the punishment is proportioned to the transgression. 
What is the eighth character ? To be pacific and tolerant ; 
because according to the law of nature, all men being breth- 
ren, and equal in rights, it advises all to peace and toleration, 
even for their errors. What is the ninth character of this 
law ? To be equally beneficent to all men, and to teach them 
all the true method of being better and happier. 

4 If, as you assert, it emanates immediately from God, 
does it teach us his existence? Yes; very positively; for 
every man, who observes with attention, the astonishing 
scene of the universe, the more he meditates on the proper- 
ties and attributes of each existence, and on the admirable 
order and harmony of their motions, the more will he be 
convinced thatthere is a supreme agent, a universal and iden- 
tical mover, designed by the name God. 

5 Was the law of nature ever known before the present 
day ? It has been spoken of in every age. The greater part 
of lawgivers have pretended to make it the basis of their 
laws; but they have brought forward^ only a few of its pre- 
cepts, and have had but vague ideas of it as a whole. 

6 Why has this happened ? Because, though it is simple in 
its basis, it forms in its developement and its consequences, 
a complicated aggregate which requires the knowledge of a 
number of facts, and the whole sagacity of reason, in order 
to be understood. 

7 Since the law of nature is not written, may it not be 
considered as arbitrary and ideal ? No, because it consists 
altogether in facts, whose demonstration may be at any time 
recalled before the senses, and form a science as precise and 
exact as those of geometry and mathematics : and this very 
circumstance, that the law of nature forms an exact science, 
is the reason why men, who are born in ignorance, and live in 
carelessness, have, till this day, known it only superficially. 

SECTION III. 
The principles of the law of nature as they relate to man: 
importance of instruction and self-government. 
1 In what manner does nature command self-preservation ? 
By two powerful and involuntary sensations which she has 
attached as two guides or guardian genii to all our actions; 
one, the sensation of pain, by which she informs us of, and 



106 
turns us from whatever tends to our destruction. The other, 
the sensation of pleasure, by which she attracts and leads us 
towards every thing that tends to our preservation, and the 
unfolding of our faculties. 

2 But does not this prove that our senses may deceive us 
with respect to this end of self-preservation ? Yes; they may 
for a time. How do our sensations deceive us ? In two ways; 
through our ignorance and our passions. When do they de- 
ceive us through our ignorance? When we act without 
knowing the action and effect of objects on our senses; for 
instance, when a man handles nettles without knowing their 
quality of stinging; or when he chews opium in ignorance 
of its soporific properties. 

3 When do they deceive us through our passions ? When, 
though we are acquainted w 7 ith the hurtful action of objects, 
we, notwithstanding, give way to the violence of our desires 
and our appetites; for instance, when a man who knows that 
wine inebriates, drinks, notwithstanding, to excess. 

4 What results from these facts ? The result is, that the 
ignorance in w r hich we enter the world, and the inanimate 
appetites to which we give ourselves up, are opposed to our 
self-preservation; that in consequence, the instruction of our 
minds, and the moderation of our passions, are two obliga- 
tions, or two laws, immediately derived from the first law 
of preservation. 

5 But if we are born ignorant, is not ignorance a part of 
the law of nature ? No more than it is for us to remain in 
the naked and feeble state of infancy: far from its being a 
law of nature, ignorance is an obstacle in the way of all her 
laws. 

6 Whence then has it happened that moralists have existed 
who considered it as a virtue and a perfection? Because through 
caprice, or misanthropy, they have confounded the abuse of 
our knowledge with knowledge itself; as though because 
men misemploy the faculty of speaking, it were necessary 
to cut out their tongue; as though perfection and virtue con- 
sisted in the annihilation, and not in the unfolding and proper 
employment of our faculties. 

7 Is instruction then necessarily indispensable for man's 
existence? Yes; so indispensable, that without it, he must be 
every instant struck and wounded by all the beings which 
surround him; for if he did not know the effects of fire, he 
would burn himself; of water, he would be drowned; of 
opium, he w r ould be poisoned. If in the savage state, he is 



107 

unacquainted with the cunning and subterfuges of animals, 
and the art of procuring game, he perishes with hunger: if 
in a state of society, he does not know the progress of the 
seasons, he can neither cultivate the earth, nor provide him- 
self with food: and the like may be said from all his actions 
arising from all his wants. 

S What is the true meaning of the word philosopher ? The 
word philosopher signifies lover of wisdom: now, since wis- 
dom consists in the practice of the laws of nature, that man 
is a true philosopher who understands these laws in their full 
extent, and, with precision, renders his conduct conformable 
to them. 

9 But does not this desire of self-preservation produce in 
individuals egotism, that is, the love of self; and is not ego- 
tism abhorrent to the social state ? No; for if by egotism is 
understood an inclination to injure others, it is no longer the 
love of self, but the hatred of our neighbor. The love of 
self, taken in its true sense, is not only consistent with a state 
of society, but is likewise its firmest support; since we are 
under a necessity of not doing injury to others, lest they 
should, In return, do injury to ourselves. 



SECTION IV« 
Of the basis of morality; of good, of evil, of crimes, of 
vice and virtue. 

1 What is good, according to the law of nature ? What- 
ever tends to preserve and ameliorate mankind. What is 
evil ? Whatever tends to the destruction and deterioration 
of the human race. 

2 What is understood by physical good or evil, and moral 
good or evil ? By the word physical, is meant whatever 
acts immediately upon the body ; health is a physical good ; 
sickness is a physical evil. By moral, is understood what- 
ever is effected by consequences more or less remote: 
calumny is a moral evil; a fair reputation is a moral good, 
because both of them are the occasion of certain dispositions 
and habits in other men, with respect to ourselves, which 
are useful or prejudicial to our well-being, and which attack 
or contribute to the means of existence. 

3 The murder of a man, is it then a crime according to the 
law of nature ? Yes; and the greatest that can be committed; 
for murder can never be done away. 

4 What is virtue according to the law of nature ? -The 



,108 f 

practice of actions which are useful to the individual and to 
society. 

5 What is vice according to the law of nature? It is the 
practice of actions prejudicial to the individual and to society. 

6 In what manner does the law of nature prescribe the 
practice of good and virtue, and forbid that of evil and of 
vice ? By the moral and physical advantages resulting from 
the practice of good and virtue, and the injuries which our 
very existence receives from the practice of evil and vice. 

7 What division do you make of the virtues ? We divide 
them into three classes; 1st, Private virtues, or those which 
refer to single and insulated persons; 2d, Domestic virtues, 
or those which relate to families ; 3d, Social virtues, or those 
which respect society at large. 

SECTION V. 
Of individual or private virtues; of knowledge, tempe- 
rance, industry, cleanliness. 

1 Which are the private virtues ? There are four principal 
ones: namely, knowledge; which comprehends prudence and 
wisdom. 2d, Temperance ; which includes sobriety and chas- 
tity. 3d, Activity; that is, the love of labor, and a proper 
employment of our time. 4th, Lastly; cleanliness, or pu- 
rity of body, as well in our clothing, as in our dwellings. , 

2 How does the law of nature prescribe to us the posses- 
sion of knowledge ? In this way; The man who is acquainted 
with the causes and effects of things, provides in a very ex- 
tensive and certain manner for his own preservation, and the 
developement of his faculties. Knowledge is for him, as it 
were light acting upon its appropriate organ, making him dis- 
cern all the objects which surround him, and in the midst of 
which he moves with precision and clearness. 

3 And for this reason, we used to say an enlightened 'man, 
to designate, a wise and well informed man. By the help of 
knowledge and information, we are never left without re- 
sources, and means of subsistence; and whence a philosopher, 
who had suffered shipwreck, observed justly to his com- 
panions, who were lamenting the loss of their fortunes, " As 
for me, I carry all my fortune in myself." 

4 What is the vice opposed to knowledge? Ignorance. 
How does the law of nature forbid ignorance ? By the great 
injury which our existence sustains from it; for the igno- 
rant, who are unacquainted with either causes or effects, com- 
mit, every instant, mistakes the most pernicious to themselves 






109 

or others; like a blind man who walks groping his way, and 
who at every step stumbles against, or is jostled by his com- 
panions. 

5 What is prudence ? An anticipated view, a foresight of 
effects, and the consequences of every event: a foresight by 
which a man avoids the dangers which threaten him, and 
seizes and raises up opportunities which are favorable: whence 
it appears that he provides, on a large and sure scale, for his 
present and future conservation; while the imprudent man, 
who neither calculates his progress nor his conduct, the efforts 
required, nor the resistances to overcome, falls every mo- 
ment into a thousand difficulties and dangers, which more or 
less slowly destroy his faculties and his being. 

6 What is temperance ? A well regulated employment of 
our faculties ; which prevents our ever exceeding in our sen- 
sible pleasures the end of nature, self-conservation. It is the 
moderation of our passions. What is the vice opposed to 
temperance ? The want of government over our passions ; 
an over-great eagerness to possess enjoyments : in a word, 
cupidity. What are the principal branches of temperance ? 
Sobriety and chastity. 

7 In what manner does the law of nature enjoin sobriety ? 
By* its powerful influence over our health. The man of 
sobriety digests his food with comfort; he is not oppressed 
by the weight of his aliment; his ideas are clear and easily 
impressed; he performs every function well ; he attends with 
diligence to his business; he grow T s old free from sickness; 
he does not throw away his money in remedies for disorders; 
he enjoys with gay good humor the goods which fortune or 
prudence have procured for him. Thus does generous 
nature make a thousand rewards flow from a single virtue. 

8 By what means does she prohibit gluttony ? By the 
numerous evils attached to it. The glutton, oppressed by 
his aliment, digests with pain and difficulty ; his head, dis- 
turbed by the fumes arising during bad digestion, is incapa- 
ble of receiving neat and clear ideas; he gives himself up 
with fury to the inordinate movements of luxury and anger, 
which destroy his health; his body becomes fat, heavy, and 
unfit for labor; he passes through painful and expensive fits 
of sickness; he rarely lives to old age, and his latter part of 
life is marked by infirmity and disgust. 

9 In what light does this law consider drunkenness ? As 
the vilest and most pernicious of vices. The drunkard, 
deprived of the sense and reason given us by God, profanes 

K 



no 

the gifts of the divinity; he lowers himself to the condition of 
the brutes ; incapable of directing his steps, he totters and 
falls as in a fit of epilepsy; he wounds himself, and en- 
dangers his own life. * 

10 His weakness in this state renders him the plaything 
and the scorn of all around him: he contracts, during his 
drunkenness, ruinous engagements, and loses the manage- 
ment of his affairs: he suffers violent and outrageous obser- 
vations to escape him, which raise him up enemies and bring 
him to repentance: he fills his house with trouble and cha- 
grin; and he concludes by a premature death, or an old age, 
comfortless and diseased. 

11 Does the law of nature prescribe chastity? Yes. How 
does it forbid libertinism ? By the innumerable evils which 
it entails upon our existence, physical and moral. The man 
who abandons himself to it, becomes enervated and languid; 
he is no longer able to attend to his studies or his business; 
he contracts idle and expensive habits, which diminish his 
means of livelihood, his reputation and his credit; his in- 
trigues occasion him embarrassments, cares, quarrels and law- 
suits, not to take into the account heavy and grievous diseases; 
and lastly, a premature and infirm old age. 

12 Ought modesty to be considered as a virtue ? Yes;* be- 
cause modesty maintains the mind and body in all the habits 
tending to the good order and self-preservation of the indi- 
vidual. A modest woman is esteemed, while the immodest, 
unchaste woman is despised, rejected, and abandoned to 
misery and disgrace. 

13 Why do you say that activity is a virtue according to 
the law of nature ? Because the man who labors and employs 
his time usefully, derives, from so doing, innumerable advan- 
tages with respect to his existence. Is he poor ? his labor 
furnishes him with his subsistence; and if, in addition, he is 
sober, continent and prudent, he soon acquires many conve- 
niences, and enjoys the sweets of life: his very labor pro- 
duces in him those virtues; for as long as he continues to 
employ his mind and his body, he is not affected by inordi- 
nate desires; he is free from dulness; he contracts mild and 
pleasant habits; he augments his strength and his health, and 
arrives to an old age of felicity and peace. 

14 Are idleness and sloth then vices in the order of nature ? 
Yes; and the most pernicious of all vices; for they lead to 
every other. In idleness and sloth man remains ignorant, 
ajid even loses the knowledge which he had before acquired, 



Ill 

falling into all the evils which accompany ignorance and folly. 

15 In idleness and sloth, man, devoured by listless dul- 
ness, gives himself up to the dominion of sense, whose em- 
pire, .as it increases and extends from day to day, renders 
him intemperate, gluttonous, luxurious, enervate, cowardly, 
base, and despicable. The certain effects of all which vices 
are, the ruin of his fortune, the wasting of his health, and 
the termination of his life in the anguish of disease, poverty 
and disgrace. 

16 If I understand you, it would appear that poverty is a 
vice. No ; it is not a vice; but still less is it a virtue; for it 
is much more frequently injurious than useful; it is even 
commonly the result of vice, or its first occasion; for every 
individual vice conducts towards indigence ; even to the 
privation of the necessaries of life; and when a man is in 
want of the necessaries, he is on the point of endeavoring to 
procure them by vicious methods ; that is, methods hurtful to 
society. 

17 All the private virtues, on the contrary, fend to pro- 
cure for man an abundance of subsistence ; and when he has 
more than he can consume, it becomes more easy for him to 
give to others, and to perform actions useful to society. 

18 Why do you rank cleanliness in the class of virtues ? 
Because it is really one of the most important, as it has a 
powerful influence on the health and preservation of the 
body. Cleanliness, as w T ell in our garments as in our dwell- 
ings, prevents the pernicious effects of dampness, of bad 
smells, juid of contagious vapors arising from substances 
abandoned^) putrify. Cleanliness keeps up a free perspira- 
tion, renews the air, refreshes the blood, and even animates 
and enlivens the mind. 

1 9 Whence we see that persons, attentive to the cleanli- 
ness of their persons and their habitations, are, in general, 
more healthy, and less exposed to diseases, than those who 
live in filth and nastiness ; and it may moreover be remarked, 
that cleanliness brings with it, throughout every part of do- 
mestic discipline, habits of order and arrangement, which are 
among the first and best methods and elements of happiness. 

20 Is uncleanliness then, or filthiness, a real vice ? Yes; 
as real as drunkenness, or as sloth, from which, for the most 
part, it derives its origin. Uncleanliness is a secondary, and 
often a first cause of a multitude of slight disorders, and even 
of dangerous sicknesses. 

21 It is well known in medicine, that it generates the itch, 



112 
the scald head, the leprosy, no less certainly than the same 
disorders are produced by corrupted or acrid aliments ; that 
it contributes to the contagious power of the plague and of 
malignant fevers; that it even gives birth to them in hospi- 
tals and prisons; that it occasions rheumatism by inerusting 
the skin with dirt, and checking perspiration; not to mention 
the disgraceful inconvenience of being devoured by insects, 
the unclean appendage of abject misery. 

22 Thus all the individual or private virtues have, for their 
more or less direct, and more or less proximate end, the pre- 
servation of the man who practises them; while, by the pre- 
servation of each individual, they tend to insure that of the 
family and of society at large, which is nothing more than 
the united sum of those individuals. 



SECTION VI. 

Of domestic virtues; economy r , parental affection, conju- 
gal love, filial love, brotherly love. 

1 What So you mean by domestic virtues ? I mean the 
practice of those actions which are useful to a family, that is, 
to a number of persons living under one roof. What are those 
virtues ? Economy, parental affection, conjugal love, filial 
love, hrotherly love, and the fulfilment of the reciprocal 
duties of master and servant. 

2 What is economy ? Taken in its most extensive signifi- 
cation, it is the proper administration of whatever concerns 
the existence of the family or household; but as subsistence 
holds the first rank among these circumstances, tfee word 
economy has been restricted to the employment of^>ur money 
in procuring for us the primary wants of life. 

3 Why is economy a virtue ? Because the man who enters 
into no useless expense, generally possesses a superabun- 
danee,*which constitutes real wealth, and by means of w T hich 
he procures for himself and his family, all that is truly useful 
and convenient; without taking into the account, that, by 
this means he ensures to himself resources against accidental 
and unforeseen losses; so that himself and his family live in 
a tranquil and pleasant state of ease, which is the basis of all 
human happiness. 

4 Are dissipation and prodigality then vices ? Yes : for 
they bring a man at last to the want of the necessaries of life; 
he falls into poverty, misery, and abject disgrace ; so that 
even his acquaintance, fearful of being obliged to restore to 
him what he has squandered with them or upon them, fly 



113 

from him as a debtor from his creditor, and he is left aban- 
doned by all the world. 

5 What is parental affection ? The assiduous care which 
a parent takes to bring up his children in the habit of every 
action useful to themselves and to society. In what respect 
is parental tenderness a virtue, with respect to parents ? In 
as much as the parents who bring up their children in good 
habits, lay up for the whole course of their lives those enjoy- 
ments and aids which are grateful to us at all times, and en- 
sure against old age, those supports and consolations which 
are required by the wants and calamities of that period of life. 

6 Why do you say that conjugal love is a virtue ? Because 
the concord and union which are the consequences of the 
affection subsisting between married persons, establish in the 
bosom of their family a multitude of habits which contribute 
to its prosperity and conservation; united by the bonds of 
marriage, they love their household and quit it rarely; they 
superintend every part of its administration; they attend to 
the education of their children; they keep up the respectful- 
ness and fidelity of their domestics; they prevent all disor- 
der and dissipation; and by the whole of their good conduct, 
live in ease and reputation: while those married persons who 
have no affection for each other, fill their dwelling with 
quarrels and distress; excite war among their children and 
among their domestics, and lead them both into every kind 
of vicious habit; so that each wastes, pillages, and robs in 
their several way : their revenues are absorbed without return; 
debts follow debts; the discontented parties fly each other 
and recur to lawsuits, and the whole family falls into disor- 
der, ruin, disgrace, and the want of the necessaries of life. 

7 What is filial love ? It is, on the part of children, the prac- 
tice of such actions as are useful to themselves and to their 
parents. What motives does the law of nature present to 
enforce filial love? Three chief motives : 1st, Sentiment, for 
from our earliest infancy, the affectionate solicitudes of our 
parents, produce in us the mild habits of attachment. 2d, 
The sense of justice: for children owe their parents a return, 
and, as it were, a reparation for the troubles, and even for 
the expenses which they have occasioned them. 3d, Personal 
interest; for if we act ill towards our progenitors, we offer 
our own children examples of rebellion and ingratitude. 

8 Why is brotherly love a virtue? Because the concord 
and union which result from the mutual affection of brethren, 
establish the power, safety, and preservation of families 

K2 



114 

Brethren in union mutually defend each other from all op- 
pression, assist each otheHIn their mutual wants, support 
each other under misfortune, and thus secure their common 
existence; while brethren in a state of disunion, each being 
abandoned to his personal strength, fall into all the inconve- 
niences of insulation from society, and of individual feeble- 
ness. 

9 This truth was ingeniously expressed by that king of 
Scythia, who, on his death-bed having called his. children 
round him, ordered them to break a bundle of arrows: when 
the young men, though in full vigor, were not able to accom- 
plish this, he took the bundle in his turn, and having untied 
it, broke each separate arrow with his fingers. Behold, said 
he, the effect of union; united in a body, you will be invin- 
cible, taken separately, you will be broken like reeds. 

SECTION VII. 

Of the social virtues; of justice, liberty r , charity, probity, 

simplicity of manners, patriotism, 

1 What is society ? Every aggregated reunion of men liv- 
ing together under the regulations of a contract tacit or ex- 
pressed for their common preservation. Are the social duties 
many in number? Yes: we may count as many as there are 
actions useful to society ; but they may be all reduced to one 
principle. What is this fundamental principle ? Justice, 
which itself^ alone comprehends all the social virtues. 

2 Why do you say that justice is the fundamental, and 
almost only virtue of social life ? Because it alone embraces 
the practice of all those actions which are useful to society; 
and that every virtue, under the name of charity, humanity, 
probity, love of country, sincerity, generosity, simplicity of 
manners, and modesty, are but varied forms, and diversified 
applications of this axiom : " Do unto another only that which 
thou wouldst he should do unto thee;" which is the definition 
of justice. 

3 How does th^law of nature ordain justice ? By means 
of three physical attributes which are inherent in- the organ- 
ization of man. Wb*\are these attributes ? Equality, liberty, 
property. In what sense is equality a physical attribute of 
man ? Because all men having equally eyes, hands, mouth, 
ears, and being alike under the necessity of making use of 
them for their life's sake, are by this very fact equally entitled 
to life, and to the use of the elements which contribute to its 
support They are all equal before God. 



115 

4 Why is liberty called a physical attribute of man ? Be- 
cause all men possessing senses fitted and sufficient for their 
preservation; no one having need of the eye of another man 
in order to see, of his ear to hear, of his mouth to eat, or ol 
his foot to walk, they are all made by this means, naturally 
independent and free. 

5 How is property a physical attribute of man ? Since 
every man is formed equal and similar to his fellows, and 
consequently free and independent, every one is the absolute 
master, the entire proprietor of his body, and the products 
of his labor. 

6 How is justice derived from these three attributes ? From 
this circumstance, that men being equal, free, and owing 
nothing to each other, have no right to demand any thing of 
their fellows, but in proportion as they return for it some- 
thing equivalent; in proportion as the balance of what is given 
to what is paid, remains in equilibrium ; and it is this equal- 
ity, this equilibrium which is called justice and equity. 

7 Unfold to me how the social virtues are derived from the 
law of nature. How is charity, or the love of our neighbor 
a precept or application of this law ? By reason of the laws 
of equality and reciprocity. Thus, by attacking the existence 
of another, we make an attack upon our own in consequence 
of the law of reciprocity. On the contrary, when we do good 
to our neighbor, we have ground and reason to expect an 
exchange of good, an equivalent.* 

8 Charity then is nothing more than justice ? Yes : it is 
nothing more than justice, with this single difference, that 
strict justice, confines itself to the assertion, "Do not to others 
the evil which thou wouldst not they should do unto thee:' 5 
and that charity, or the love of our neighbor goes farther, 
even to say, Do unto others the good which you wish to re- 
ceive from them. 

9 Does the law of nature prescribe probity? Yes: for 
probity is nothing more than a respect paid to our own rights 
through the medium of the rights of others; a respect deri- 
ved from a prudent and well-made calculation of our own 
interests, compared with those of others. 

* In addition to the mercantile object of doing* good to others for the 
purchase of an equivalent, 

" Beneficence regardless of herself, 

Of pride, ambition, policy, or pelf, 

Enjoys, in blest return for one v :oor mite, 

A mine — an empire of sublime delight" — Lathrop. 

COMB. 



116 

10 But does not this calculation, which includes the com- 
plicated interests and rights of the social state, demand such 
light, and such knowledge of things, as to render it a science 
of difficult acquisition ? Yes: and a science so much the 
more delicate, as the man of probity pronounces sentence in 
his own cause. 

1 1 Is probity then a mark of an enlarged and correct mind ? 
Yes : for the man of probity almost always neglects some 
present interest for the sake of one which is future; while 
on the other hand, the knave is willing to lose a great interest 
to come for the sake of some trifling one which is present. 

12 Knavery then is a sign of false judgment and narrow 
ness of mind ? Yes : and rogues may be defined to be igno- 
rant or foolish speculators, for they know not their own 
interests; and though they affect wariness and cunning, their 
artifices seldom fail to expose them, and make them known 
for what they are ; to deprive them of the confidence and 
esteem of others, and of all the advantages which might thence 
result to their social and physical existence. They neither 
live in peace with themselves, nor with others, and inces- 
santly alarmed by their conscience and their enemies, they 
enjoy no other real happiness than that of escaping from the 
executioner. 

13 How can a man, according to the law of nature, repair 
any injury which he has committed ? By conferring a pro- 
portionable benefit upon those whom he has injured. Is sin- 
cerity enjoined by the law of nature ? Yes: for lying, perfidy, 
and perjury, excite amongst men, distrust, dissension, hatred, 
revenge, and a multitude of evils, which tend to the destruc- 
tion of society: whilst sincerity and good faith establish con- 
fidence, concord, peace, and the other infinite advantages, 
which are the necessary result of such a happy state of things. 

14 Does it prescribe mildness and modesty ? Yes: for an 
assuming and rude deportment while it alienates from us the 
hearts of other men, infuses into them a disposition to do us 
disservice: ostentation and vanity, by wounding their self- 
love and exciting their jealousy, prevent us from attaining 
the point of real utility. 

15 You have classed among the social virtues, simplicity 
of manners ; what do you mean by that expression ? I mean 
confining our wants and desires, to what is really useful for 
the existence of the individual and his family : that is to say, 
the man of simple manners has few wants, and is content 
with little. 



117 

16 How is this virtue recommended to us? By the nu- 
merous advantages, which it bestows both upon the individ- 
ual, and upon society at large ; for the man who has few wants, 
liberates himself at once from a crowd of cares, troubles and 
toils, avoids a number of disputes and quarrels, which arise 
from the eager desire of gain ; is free from the cares of am- 
bition, the inquietudes of possession, and the fears of loss. 

17 Again" if this virtue of simplicity, were extended to a 
whole people, it secures abundance to them ; every thing 
which they do not immediately consume, becomes to them a 
source of trade and commerce to a very great extent; they 
labor, they manufacture, and sell their productions to greater 
advantage than others ; and attain the summit both of exter- 
nal and internal prosperity. What vice is the direct oppo- 
site of this virtue ? Cupidity and luxury. 

18 Is luxury a vice both in the individual and in society 
at large ? Yes : and to such an extent, that, it may be said to 
include in it the seeds of all others; for the man who makes 
many things necessary to his happiness, imposes at the same 
time upon himself all the cares, and submits to all the means 
of acquiring them, whether they be just or unjust. 

19 Has he already one enjoyment, he wishes for another, 
and in the midst of superfluities, he is never rich ; a commo- 
dious habitation will not satisfy him ; he must have a superb 
hotel ; he is not content with a plentiful table ; he must have 
rare and costly meats ; he must have splendid furniture, ex- 
pensive apparel, and a long, useless train of footmen, horses, 
carriages and women ; he must be constantly at the gaming 
table, or at places of public entertainment. Now, to support 
these expenses, a great deal of money is requisite ; he begins 
by borrowing, becomes bankrupt, is at war with mankind, 
rums others, and is himself ruined. 

20 Again, if we consider the effects of luxury upon a na- 
tion, it produces the same ravages upon a large scale ; in 
consequence of its consuming within itself all its produc- 
tions, it is poor in the midst of abundance ; it has nothing to 
sell to the foreigner; and becomes a tributary for every thing 
which it imports : it loses its respectability, its strength, and 
its means of defence and preservation abroad ; whilst at home 
it is undermined, and the bond of union between its members 
dissolved. 

21 All its citizens being greedy after enjoyments, are per- 
petually struggling with each other for the attainment of 
them ; all are either inflicting injuries, or have the disposition 



118 

to do so: and hence arise thos& actions and habits of usurpa- 
tion, which compose what is called moral corruption^ or in- 
testine war between the members of the same society. 

22 Luxury produces rapacity, rapacity the invasion of 
others by violence, or by breach of public faith ; so that the 
ancient moralists had an accurate perception of truth when 
they declared that all the social virtues were founded upon a 
simplicity of manners, a limitation of w r ants: sfnd we may 
take as a certain scale of the virtues or vices of a man, the 
proportion which his expenses bear to his revenue. 

23 What do you mean by the word country ? I under- 
stand by that word, a community of citizens who, united by 
fraternal sentiments and reciprocal wants, unite their indi- 
vidual forces, for the purposes of general security, the re- 
action of which upon each of them, assumes the beneficial and 
protecting character of paternity. 

24 In society, the members of it form a bank of interest , 
in a country they constitute a family of tender attachments; 
by means of which, charity, and the love of our neighbor, are 
extended to a whole nation. No member of this family can 
pretend to the enjoyment of any advantages, except in pro- 
portion to his exertions; and he can only attain the means of 
being generous or disinterested, in proportion as his expenses 
are confined within the limits of his acquisitions or pos- 
sessions. 

25 What is your deduction from these principles ? I con- 
clude from these principles, that all the social virtues con- 
sist in the performance of actions useful both to the society 
and to the individual that they may be all traced to the phy- 
sical object of the preservation of man : that nature having 
implanted in our bosoms the necessity* of this preservation, 
imposes all the consequences arising from it as a law, and 
prohibits as a crime whatever counteracts the operation of 
this principle: 

26 That we are happy, in exact proportion to the obedi- 
ence we yield to those laws which nature has established with 
a view to our preservation: that the following axioms are 
founded upon our natural organization. Preserve thyself. 
Instruct thyself. Moderate thyself. Live for thy fellow 
creatures in order that they may live for thee. 



119 
CHAPTER 2. 

ABRIDGMENT OP THE ECONOMY OF HUMAN LIFE. 

SECTION I. 
Duties that relate to man, considered as an individual. 

1 Commune with thyself, man! and consider wherefore 
thou wert made. Contemplate thy powers ; contemplate thy 
wants and thy connections; so shalt thou discover the duties 
of life, and be directed in all thy ways. Proceed not to speak 
or to act before thou hast weighed thy words, and examined 
the tendency of every step thou shalt take; so shall disgrace 
fly far from thee, and in thy house shall shame be a stranger; 
repentance shall not visit thee, nor sorrow sit upon thy cheek. 

2 The thoughtless man bridleth not his tongue; hespeak- 
eth at random, and is entangled in the foolishness of his own 
words. As one that runneth in haste, and leapeth over a 
fence, may fall into a pit on the other side, which he doth 
not see; so is the man that plungeth suddenly into an action, 
before he has considered the consequences thereof. 

3 As a plain garment best adorneth a beautiful woman, 
so a decent behavior is the greatest ornament of wisdom. But, 
behold the vain man, and observe the arrogant; he clotheth 
himself in rich attire, he walketh in the public street, he 
casteth round his eyes, and courteth observation. 

4 Since the days that are past are gone forever, and those 
that are to come may not come to thee, it behoveth thee, 
man! to employ the present time, without regretting the loss 
of that which is past, or too much depending on that which is 
to come. This instant is thine ; the next is in the womb of 
futurity, and thou knowest not what it may bring forth. 

5 Whatsoever thou resolvest to do, do it quickly. Defer 
not till the evening what the morning may accomplish. Idle- 
ness is the parent of want and pain; but the labor of virtue 
bringeth forth pleasure. The hand of diligence defeateth 
want; prosperity and success are the industrious man's at- 
tendants. 

6 He riseth up early, and lieth down late; he exerciseth 
his mind with contemplation, and his body with action, and 
preserveth the health of both. The slothful man is a burden 
to himself, his hours hang heavy on his head; he loitereth 
about, and knoweth not what he would do. His days pass 
away like the shadow of a cloud, and he leaveth behind him 
no mark of remembrance. 



120 

7 His body is diseased for want of exercise; he wisheth 
for action, but hath not power to move; his mind is in dark- 
ness; his thoughts are confused ; he longeth for knowledge, 
but hath no application. He would eat of the almond, but he 
hateth the trouble -of breaking its shell. 

8 His house is in disorder, his servants are wasteful and 
riotous, and he runneth on towards ruin; he seeth it with his 
eyes, he heareth it with his ears, he shaketh his head and 
wisheth, but hath no resolution; till ruin cometh upon him 
like a whirlwind, and shame and repentance descend with 
nim to the grave. 

9 The fool is not always unfortunate, nor the wise man 
always successful; yet never had a fool a thorough enjoyment, 
never was a wise man wholly unhappy. 

10 Perils, and misfortunes, and want, and pain, and injury, 
are more or less the certain lot of every man that cometh 
into the world. It behoveth thee, therefore, child of ca- 
lamity! early to fortify thy mind with courage and patience, 
that thou mayest support, with a becoming resolution, thy 
allotted portion of human evil. 

1 1 Forget not, man ! that thy station on earth is ap- 
pointed by the wisdom of the Eternal, who knoweth thy 
heart, who seeth the vanity of thy wishes^ and who often in 
mercy denieth thy requests. Yet, for all reasonable desires, 
for all honest endeavors, his benevolence hath established, 
in the nature of things, a probability of success. 

12 The uneasiness thou feelest, the misfortunes thou be- 
wailest, behold the root from whence they spring, even thine 
own folly, thine own pride, thine own distempered fancy. 
Murmur not, therefore, at the dispensations of God, but cor- 
rect thine own heart ; neither say within thyself, if I had 
wealth, power or leisure, I should be happy; for know, they 
all of them bring to their several possessors their peculiar 
inconveniences. 

13 The poor man seeth not the vexations and anxieties of 
the rich; he feeletfi not the difficulties and perplexities of 
power; neither knoweth he the wearisomeness of leisure; 
and therefore it is that he repineth at his own lot. ^But envy 
not the appearance of happiness in any man; for thou know- 
est not his secret griefs. 

14 To be satisfied with a little is the greatest wisdom ; 
and he that increaseth his riches, increaseth iiis cares; but 
a contented mind is a hidden treasure, and trouble findeth 
it- not. Yet, if thou suffered not the allurements of fortune 



me 



121 

to rob thee of justice, or temperance, or charity, or modesty, 
even riches themselves shall not make thee unhappy. 

15 The nearest approach thou canst make to happiness 
on this side the grave, is to enjoy from heaven understand- 
ing and health. These blessings if thou possessest, and 
vvouldst preserve to old age, avoid the allurements of volup- 
tuousness, and fly from her temptations. When she spreadeth 
her delicacies on the board, when her wine sparkleth in the 
cup, when she smileth upon thee, and persuadeth thee to be 
joyful and happy ; then is the hour of danger, and let reason 
stand firmly on her guard. 

16 For, if thou hearkenest unto the words of her adver- 
sary, thou art deceived and betrayed. The joy which she 
promiseth change th to madness, and her enjoyments lead 
on to diseases and death. Look round her board, cast thine 
eyes upon her guests, and observe those who have been al- 
lured by her smiles, who have listened to her temptations. 
Are they not meagre ? are they not 'sickly ? are they not 
spiritless ? 

17 Their short hours of jollity and riot are followed by 
tedious days of pain and dejection. She hath debauched and 
palled their appetites, that they have no relish for her nicest 
dainties; her votaries are become her victims; the just and 
natural consequences which God hath ordained, in the con- 
stitution of things, for the punishment of those who abuse his 
gifts. 

18 Enfeebled by dalliance, with luxury pampered, and 
softened by sloth, strength shall forsake thy limbs, and health 
thy constitution. Thy days shall be few, and those inglori- 
ous: thy griefs shall be many, yet meet with no compassioa. 

SECTION II. 

The passions : joy and grief; anger; pity. 

1 Let not thy mirth be so extravagant as to intoxicate thy 
mind, nor thy sorrow so heavy as to depress thy heart. This 
world affordeth no good so transporting, nor inflicteth any 
evil so severe, as should raise thee far above, or sink thee 
much beneath, the balance of moderation, Lo ! yonder stand- 
eth the house of joy. It is painted on the outside, and looketh 
gay; thou mayst know it from the continual noise of mirth 
and exultation that issueth from it. 

2 The mistress standeth at the door, and calleth aloud to 
all that pass by; she singeth, and shouteth, and laugheth with- 
out ceasing. She inviteth them to go in and taste the plea- 

I* 



122 

suites of life, which she telleth them are no where to be found, 
tut beneath her roof. But enter not thou into her gate; nei- 
ther associate thyself with those w T ho frequent her house. 

3 They call themselves the sons of joy; they laugh and 
Seem delighted ; but madness and folly are in all their do- 
ings. They are linked with mischief, hand in hand, and their 
steps lead down to evil. Dangers beset them round about, 
and the pit of destruction yawneth beneath their feet. Look 
now on the other side; and behold in that vale overshadowed 
with trees and hid from the sight of men, the habitation of 
sorrow. 

4 Her bosom heaveth with sighs; her mouth is filled with 
lamentation ; she delighteth to dwell on the subject of human 
misery. She looketh on the common accidents of life, and 
weepeth ; the weakness and wickedness of man is the theme 
of her lips. All nature to her teemeth with evil ; every ob- 
ject she seeth is tinged with the gloom of her own mind ; and 
the voice of complaint saddeneth her dwelling day and night. 

5 Come not near her cell; her breath is contagious; she 
will blast the fruits, and wither the flowers that adorn and 
sweeten the garden of life. In avoiding the house of joy, let 
not thy feet betray thee to the borders of this dismal man- 
sion; but pursue with care the middle path, which shall lead 
thee, by gentle ascent, to the bower of tranquillity. 

6 With her dwelleth peace; with her dwelleth safety and 
contentment. She is cheerful, but not gay; she is serious, 
but not grave; she vieweth the joys and the sorrows of life 
with an equal and steady eye. 

7 From hence, as from an eminence, shalt thou behold 
the folly and the misery of those, who, led by the gaiety of 
their hearts, take up their abode with the companions of jol- 
lity and riotous mirth ; or, infected by gloominess and melan- 
choly, spend all their days in complaining of the woes and 
calamities of human life. Thou shalt view them both with 
pity; and the error of their ways shall keep thy feet from 
straying. 

8 Seest thou not that the angry man loseth his under- 
standing ? Whilst thou art yet in thy senses, let the wrath 
of another be a lesson to thyself. Harbor not revenge in 
thy breast: it will torment thy heart, and disorder its best 
inclinations. Be always more ready to forgive than to return 
an injury : he that watcheth for an opportunity of revenge, 
lieth in wait against himself, and draweth down mischief on 
his own head- 



123 

9 As blossoms and flowers are strewed upon the earth by 
the hand of spring, as the kindness of summer produceth in 
perfection the bounties of harvest; so the smiles of pity shed 
blessings on the children of misfortune. He who pitieth 
another, recommendeth himself; but he who is without com- 
passion, descrveth it not. 

10 The butcher relenteth not at the bleating of the lamb ; 
neither is the heart of the cruel moved with distress. But 
the tears of the compassionate are sweeter than dew-drops, 
falling from roses on the bosom of the earth. Shut not thine 
ears, therefore, against the cries of the poor; neither harden 
thy heart against the calamities of the innocent. 

1 1 When the fatherless call upon thee, when the widow's 
heart is sunk, and she imploreth thy assistance with 4ears of 
sorrow; pity her affliction, and extend thy hand to those 
who have none to help them. When thou seest the naked 
wanderer of the street shivering with cold, and destitute 
of habitation, let bounty open thy heart; let the wings of 
charity shelter him from death, that thine own soul may live. 

12 Whilst the poor man groaneth on the bed of sickness, 
whilst the unfortunate languish in the horrors of a dungeon, 
or the hoary head of age lifts up a feeble eye to thee for pity; 
how canst thou riot in superfluous enjoyments, regardless 
of their wants, unfeeling of their woes ! 

SECTION III. 
Woman. 

1 Give ear, fair daughter of love, to the instructions of 
Prudence, and let the precept of truth sink deep in thy heart; 
so shall the charms of thy mind add lustre to the elegance of 
thy form : and thy beauty, like the rose it resembleth, shall 
retain its sweetness when its bloom is withered. 

2 Who is she that winneth the heart of man, that subdu- 
eth him to love, and reigneth in his breast ?' Lo! yonder she 
walketh in maiden sweetness, with innocence in her mind, 
and modesty on her cheek. Her hand seeketh employment; 
her foot delighteth not in gadding abroad. She is clothed 
with neatness ; she is fed with temperance ; humility and 
meekness are as a crown of glory encircling her head. De- 
cency is in all her words; in her answers are mildness and 
truth. 

3 Before her steps walketh prudence, and virtue attendeth 
at her right hand. Her eye speaketh softness and love ; but 
discretion with a sceptre sitteth an her brow. The tongue 



124 

,of the licentious is dumb in her presence ; the awe of her 
virtue keepeth him silent. When scandal is busy, and the 
fame of her neighbor is tossed from tongue to tongue; if 
charity and good nature open not her mouth, the finger of 
silence resteth on her lip. 

4 Her Breast is the mansion of goodness; and therefore, 
she suspecteth no evil in others. Happy were the man that 
should make her his wife; happy the child that shall call her 
mother. She presideth in the house, and there is peace; she 
commandeth with judgment, and is obeyed. She ariseth in 
the morning; she considers her affairs; and appointeth to every 
one their proper business. 

5 The care of her family is her whole delight; to that 
alone she appheth h*er study: and elegance with frugality is 
seen in her mansions. The prudence of her management is an 
honor to her husband, and he heareth her praise with a secret 
delight. She informeth the minds of her children with wis- 
dom; she fashioneth their manners from the example of her 
own goodness. 

6 The word of her mouth is the law of their youth: the 
motion of her eye commandeth her obedience. She speaketh, 
and her servants fly; she pointeth, and the thing is done: fox 
the law of love is in their hearts; and her kindness addeth 
wings to their feet. 

7 In prosperity she is not puffed up; in adversity she 
healeth the wounds of fortune with patience. The troubles 
of her husband are alleviated by her counsels, and sweetened 
by her endearment : he putteth his heart in he,r bosom, and 
reeeiveth comfort. 



SECTION IV. 

Duties of ehildren to parents, and of brothers to one 

another. 

1 From the creatures of God let man learn wisdom, and 
apply to himself the instruction ^iey give. Go to the desert 
my son; observe the young stork of the wilderness; let him 
speak to thy heart; he beareth on his wings his aged sire; he 
lodgeth him in safety, and supplieth him with food. 

2 The piety of a child is sweeter than the incense of 
Persia offered to the sun; yea, more delicious than odours 
wafted from a field of Arabian spices, by the western gales. 
Be grateful then to thy father, for he gave thee life; and to 
thy mother, for she sustained thee. 

3 Hear the words of his mouth, for they are spoken for 



125 
thy good: give ear to his admonition, for it proceedetn from 
love. He hath watched for thy welfare; he hath toiled for 
thy ease; do honor therefore to his age, and let not his grey 
hairs be treated with irreverence. 

4 Forget not thy helpless infancy, nor the frowardness of 
thy youth, and indulge the infirmities of thy aged parents; 
assist and support them in the decline of life. So shall their 
hoary heads go down to the grave in peace; and thine own 
children in reverence of thy example, shall repay thy piety 
with filial love. 

5 Ye are the children of one father, provided for by his care; 
and the breast of one mother hath given you suck. Let the 
bonds of affection, therefore, unite thee with thy brothers; 
that peace and happiness may dwell in thy father's house, 

6 And when ye separate in the world, remember the 
relation that bindeth you to love and unity; and prefer not a 
stranger before thine own blood. If thy brother is in adver- 
sity? assist him: If thy sister is in trouble, forsake her not. 
So shall the fortunes of thy father contribute to the support of 
his whole race; and his care be continued to you all, in your 
love to each other. 



SECTION V. 

Wise and ignorant; rich and poor; masters and servants, 

1 The gifts of the understanding are the treasures of God; 
and he appointeth to every one his portion, in what measure 
seemeth good unto himself. Hath he endowed thee with wis- 
dom ? hath he enlightened thy mind with the knowledge of 
truth ? communicate it to the ignorant, for their instruction. 

2 But the wise man cultivates his mind with knowledge; 
the improvement of arts is his delight ; and their utility to 
the public crowneth him with honor. Nevertheless, the 
attainment of virtue he accounteth as the highest learning ; 
and the science of happiness is the study of his life. 

3 The man to whom God hath given riches, and blessed 
with a mind to employ them aright, is peculiarly favored 
and highly distinguished. He looketh on his wealth with 
pleasure : because it affordeth him the means to do good. He 
protecteth the poor that are injured; he suffereth not the 
mighty to oppress the w^eak. 

4 He seeketh out objects of compassion; he inquireth into 
their wants ; he relieveth them with judgment, and without 
ostentation. He assisteth and rewardeth merit ; he encoura 
geth ingenuity, and liberally promoteth every useful design. 

L2 



126 

He carrieth on great works; his country is enriched, and the 
laborer is employed ; he formeth new schemes, and the arts 
receive improvement. 

5 He considereth the superfluities of his table as belonging 
to the poor of his neighborhood, and he defraudeth them not. 
The benevolence of his mind is not checked by his fortune; 
he rejoiceth therefore in riches, and his joy is blameless. 

6 But wo unto him that heapeth up wealth in abundance, 
and rejoiceth alone in the possession thereof That grindeth 
the face of the poor, and considereth not the sweat of their 
brows. He thriveth on oppression without feeling; the ruin 
of his brother disturbeth him not. The tears of the orphan 
he drinketh as milk; the cries of the widow are music to his ear. 

7 His heart is hardened with the love of wealth; no grief 
nor distress can make impression upon it. But the curse of 
iniquity pursueth him; he liveth in continual fear; the anxi- 
ety of his mind, and the rapacious desires' of his own soul, 
take vengeance upon him, for the calamities he hath brought 
upon others. 

8 0, what are the miseries of poverty in comparison with 
the gnawings of this man's heart ! Let the poor man comfort 
himself, yea, rejoice, for he hath many reasons. He sitteth 
down to his morsel in peace; his table is not crowded with 
flatterers and devourers. He is not embarrassed with a train 
of dependents, nor teased with the clamors of solicitation. 

9 Debarred from the dainties of the rich, he escapeth also 
their diseases. The bread that he eateth, is it not sweet to 
his taste ? the water he drinketh} is it not pleasant to his 
thirst ? yea, far more delicious than the richest draughts of 
the luxurious. His labor preserveth his health, and pro- 
cureth him a repose, to which the downy bed of sloth is a 
stranger. 

10 He limiteth his desires with humility; and the calm of 
contentment is sweeter to his soul than all the acquirements 
of w r ealth and grandeur. Let not the rich, therefore, presume 
.on his riches; nor the poor in his poverty yield to despondence; 
for the providence of God dispenseth happiness to them both. 

11 The honor of a servant is his fidelity; his highest vir- 
tues are submission and obedience. Be patient, therefore, 
under the reproofs of thy master; and when he rebuketh thee 
answer not again. The silence of thy resignation shall not 
be forgotten. Be studious of his interests; be diligent in his 
affairs ; and faithful to the trust which he reposeth in thee. 

12 Thy time and thy labor belong unto him. Defraud him 



127 

not therefore, for he payeth thee for them. And thou who 
art a master, be kind to thy servant, if thou expectest from 
him fidelity; and reasonable in thy commands, if thou expect- 
est a ready obedience. The spirit of a man is in him; sever- 
ity and rigor may create fear, but can never command his love. 
13 Mix kindness with reproof, and reason with authority; 
so shall thy admonitions take place in his heart, and his duty 
shall become his pleasure. He shall serve thee faithfully 
from the motive of gratitude ; he shall obey thee cheerfully 
from the principle of love; and fail not thou, in return, to give 
his diligence and fidelity their proper reward. 

SECTION VI. 
The social duties: benevolence, justice, charity, religion. 

1 When thou considerest thy wants, when thou beholdest 
thy imperfections, acknowledge his goodness, son of hu- 
manity! who honored thee with reason, endowed thee 
with speech, and placed thee in society to receive and confer 
reciprocal helps and mutual obligations. 

2 Thy food, thy clothing, thy convenience of habitation, 
thy protection from the injuries, the enjoyment of the com- 
forts and the pleasures of life, all these thou owest to the as- 
sistance of others ; and couldst not enjoy but in the bands of 
society. It is thy duty therefore to be a friend to mankind, 
as it is thy interest that man should be friendly to thee. 

3 As the rose breatheth sweetness from its own nature, so 
the heart of a benevolent man produceth good works. He 
enjoy eth the ease and tranquillity of his own breast, and re- 
joiceth in the happiness and prosperity of his neighbor. He 
openeth not his ear unto slander ; the faults and the failings 
of men give a pain to his heart. 

4 His desire is to do good, and he searcheth out the occa- 
sion thereof; in removing the oppression of another, he re- 
lieveth himself. From the largeness of his mind he compre- 
hendeth in his wishes the happiness of all men ; and from 
the generosity of his heart, he endeavoreth to promote it. 

5 The peace of society dependeth on justice; the happiness 
of individuals, on the safe enjoyment of all their possessions. 
Keep the desires of thy heart, therefore, within the bounds 
of moderation; let the hand of justice lead them aright. Cast 
not an evil eye on the goods of thy neighbor ; let whatever 
is his property be sacred from thy touch. 

6 In thy dealings with men be impartial and just ; and do 
unto^them as thou wouldst they should do unto thee. 



128 

7 When thou sellest for gain, hear the whispering of con- 
science, and be satisfied with moderation ; nor from the igno- 
rance of the buyer make any advantage to thyself. 

S Pay the debts which thou owest ; for he who gave thee 
credit, relied upon thine honor : and to withhold from him 
his due, is both mean and unjust. 

9 Finally ; son of society ! examine thy heart, call re- 
membrance to thy aid ; and if, in any of those things, thou 
findest thou hast transgressed, take sorrow and shame to thy- 
self, and make speedy reparation to the utmost of thy power. 

10 Happy is the man who hath sown in his breast the seeds 
of benevolence ; the produce thereof shall be charity and love. 
From the fountain of his heart shall rise rivers of goodness ; 
and the streams shall overflow for the good of mankind. He 
assisteth the poor in their trouble ; he rejoiceth in furthering 
the prosperity of all mem 

11 He censureth not his neighbor ; he believeth not the 
tales of envy and malevolence ; neither repeateth he their 
slanders. He forgiveth the injuries of men; he wipeth them 
from his remembrance ; revenge and malice have no place in 
his heart. For evil he returneth not evil ; he hateth not 
even his enemies ; but requiteth their injustice with friendly 
admonition. 

12 The griefs and anxieties of men excite his compassion, 
he endeavors to alleviate the weight of their misfortunes ; 
and the pleasure of success rewardeth his labor. He calmeth 
theiury , he healeth the quarrels of angry men, and preventeth 
the mischiefs of strife and animosity. He promoteth in his 
neighborhood peace and good will; and his name is repeated 
with praise and benedictions. 

13 The providence of God is over all his works; he ruleth 
and directeth with infinite wisdom. He hath instituted laws 
for the government of the world; he hath wonderfully varied 
them in all beings ; and each by his nature, conform to his 
will. His goodness is conspicuous in all his works; he is the 
fountain of excellence, the centre of perfection. 

14 The creatures of his hand declare his goodness, and all 
their enjoyments speak his praise ; he clotheth them with 
beauty; he supporteth them with food; and preserveth them 
from generation to generation. If we lift up our e3~es to the 
heavens, his glory shineth forth ; if we cast them down upon 
the earth, it is full of his goodness : the hills and the vallies 
rejoice and sing; fields, rivers, and woods, resound his praise. 

15 But thee, man ! he hath distinguished with peculiar 



129 

favor, and exalted thy station above all creatures. He hath 
endowed thee with reason to maintain thy dominion ; he hath 
fitted thee with language to improve by society; and exalted 
thy mind with the powers of meditation, to contemplate and 
adore his inimitable perfections. 

16 And in the laws he hath ordained as a rule of thy life, 
so kindly hath he suited thy duty to thy nature, that obedi- 
ence to his precepts is happiness to thyself. "0 praise his 
goodness with songs of thanksgiving, and meditate in silence 
on the wonders of his love: let thy heart overflow with grat- 
itude and acknowledgment; let the language of thy lips 
speak praise and adoration ; let the actions of thy life show 
thy love to his law." 

SECTION VII. 
Man considered in general. 

1 Weak and ignorant as thou art, man ! humble as thou 
oughtest to be, child of the dust ! wouldst thou raise thy 
thoughts to infinite wisdom ? wouldst thou see omnipotence 
displayed before thee ? contemplate thine own frame. Won- 
derfully art thou made; praise therefore thy Creator with awe, 
and rejoice before him with reverence. 

2 Know thyself then, the pride of his creation ; the link 
uniting divinity and matter ; behold a part of God himself 
within thee : remember thine own dignity; nor dare descend 
to evil or to meanness. 

3 Say not unto the crow, why numberest thou seven times 
the age of thy lord ? or, to the fawn, why are thine eyes to 
see my offspring to a hundred generations ? Are these to 
be compared with thee in the abuse of life ? are they riotous ? 
are they cruel ? are they ungrateful ? Learn from them rather, 
that innocence of life and simplicity of manners are the paths 
to a good old age. Knowest thou to employ life better than 
these ? then less of it may suffice thee. 

4 Enough hast thou of life, but thou regardest not : thou 
art not in want of it, man ! but thou art prodigal: thou 
thro west it lightly away, as if thou hadst more than enough; 
and yet thou repinest that it is not gathered again unto thee. 
Know that it is not abundance which maketh rich, but econ- 
omy. The wise continueth to live from his first period ; the 
fool is always beginning. Be virtuous while thou art young, 
so shall thine age be honored. 

5 What blindeth the eye, or what hideth the heart of a 
man from himself, like vanity ? Lo ! when thou seest not 



130 
thyself, then others discover thee most plainly. Do well 
while thou livest ; but regard not what is said of it. Content 
thyself with deserving praise, and thy posterity shall rejoice 
in hearing it. 

6 Beware of irresolution in the intent of thy actions, be- 
ware of instability in the execution ; so shalt thou triumph 
over too great failings of thy nature. Establish unto thyself 
principles of action ; and see that thou ever act according to 
them. First know that thy principles are just, and then be 
thou inflexible in the path of them. * 

7 Attribute not the good actions of another to bad motives: 
thou canst not know his heart ; but the world will know by 
this, that thine is full of envy. There is not in hypocrisy 
more vice than folly ; to be honest is as easy as to seem so. 
Be more ready to acknowledge a benefit than to revenge an 
injury ; so shalt thou have more benefits than injuries done 
unto thee. Be more ready to love than to hate ; so shalt 
thou be loved by more than hate thee. 

8 Be willing to commend, and be slow to censure ; so shall 
praise be unto thy virtues, and the eye of enmity shall be 
blind to thy imperfections. When thou dost good, do it be- 
cause it is good; not because men esteem it: when thou avoid- 
est evil, fly it, because it is evil ; not because men speak against 
it : be honest for love of honesty, and thou shalt be uniformly 
so; he that doth it without principle is wavering. 

9 Presumption is the bane of reason ; it is the nurse of 
error. What is the origin of superstition ? and whence ariseth 
false worship ? From our presuming to reason about what is 
above our reach, to comprehend what is incomprehensible. 

10 Riches are servants to the wise; but they are tyrants 
over the soul of the fool. The covetous serveth his gold ; 
it serveth not him ; he possesseth his wealth as the sick 
doth a fever; it burneth and torture th him, and will not quit 
him unto death. 

1 1 Poverty wanteth many things ; but covetousness denieth 
itself all. The covetous can be good to no man ; but he is to 
none so cruel as to himself. Be industrious to procure gold ; 
and be generous in the disposal of it;' man is never so happy 
as when he giveth happiness unto another. 

12 If there be a vice greater than the hoarding up of riches, 
it is the employing them to useless purposes. He that prodi- 
gally lavisheth that which he hath to spare, robbeth the poor 
of what nature hath given them a right unto. He who squan- 
dered away his treasure, refuseth the means to do good: he 



131 

denieth himself the practice of virtues whose reward is in 
his hand; whose end is no other than his own happiness. 

13 When thou hast taught thyself to bear the seeming good 
of men without repining, thou wilt hear of their real happi- 
ness with pleasure. If thou seest good things fall to one who 
deserveth them, thou wilt rejoice in it; for virtue is happy in 
the prosperity of the virtuous. He who rejoiceth in the 
happiness of another, increaseth by it his own. 

14 He that is truly virtuous, loveth virtue for herself; he 
disdaineth the applause which ambition aimeth after. How 
pitiable were the state of virtue, if she could not be happy but 
from another's praise ! Pursue that which is honorable, do 
that which is right ; and the applause of thine own conscience 
will be more joy to thee, than the shouts of millions who 
know not that thou deservest them. 

15 The noblest employment of the mind of man is the 
study of the works of his Creator. To him whom the science 
of nature delighteth, every object bringeth a proof of his 
God ; every thing that proveth it, giveth cause of adoration. 
His mind is lifted up to heaven every moment ; his life is 
one continued act of devotion. 

16 Casteth he his eye towards the clouds, nndeth he not 
ihe heavens full of his wonders? Looketh he down to the 
earth, doth not the worm proclaim to him, Less than Om- 
nipotence could not have formed me ? 

17 While the planets perform their courses ; while the sun 
remaineth in his place ; while the comet wandereth through 
the liquid air, and returneth to its destined road again ; who 
but thy God, man! could have formed them? what but 
infinite wisdom could have appointed them their laws ? 

18 Behold, how awful their splendor! yet do they not 
diminish: Lo! how rapid their motions! yet one runneth not 
in the way of another. Look down upon the earth, and see 
her produce; examine her bowels, and behold what they 
contain! Hath not wisdom and power ordained the whole? 

1 9 Who biddeth the grass to spring up ? who watereth it 
at its due seasons ? Behold ! the ox croppeth it ; the horse 
and the sheep, feed they not upon it ? Who is he that provid- 
eth it for them ? Who giveth increase to the corn which thou 
sowest ? Who returneth it to thee a thousand fold ? 

20 What is the study of words compared with this ? In 
what science is knowledge, but in the study of nature ? Who 
is wise then, but he that knoweth it? Who hath under- 
standing, but he that contemplatelh it? For the rest, what 



132 

ever science hath most utility, whatever knowledge hath least 
vanity, prefer these unto the others ; and profit of them for 
the sake of thy neighbor. 

21 Piety to thy God, and benevolence to thy fellow crea- 
tures, are they not thy great duties ? What shall teach thee 
the one, like the study of his works ? what shall inform thee 
of the other like understanding thy dependencies ? 

22 Wouldst thou learn to die nobly ? let thy vices die be- 
fore thee. Happy is he who endeth the business of his life 
before his death : who, when the hour of it cometh, hath 
nothing to do but to die ; who wisheth not delay, because he 
hath no longer use for time. 



133 



PART FIFTH* 

ABRIDGMENT OF PENN'S MAXIMS, PALEY'S MORAL PHILO- 
SOPHY, AND KNIGGE'S PRACTICAL PHILOSOPHY OF SOCIAL 
LIFE. 



CHAPTER 1. 

ABRIDGMENT OF WILLIAM PENN ? S REFLECTIONS AND MAXIMS, 
RELATING TO THE CONDUCT OF HUMAN LIFE : AND HIS 
ADVICE TO HIS CHILDREN. 

SECTION L 

1 IT is admirable to consider how many millions of people 
come into and go out of the world, ignorant of themselves, 
and of the world they have lived in: We are in pain to 
make our youth scholars, but not men ; to talk, rather than to 
know; which is true canting. The first thing obvious to 
children is what is sensible ; and that, we make no part of 
their rudiments. 

2 We press their memory too soon, and puzzle, strain, 
and load them with words and rules to know grammar and 
rhetoric, and a strange tongue or two, that it is ten to one 
may never be useful to them ; leaving their natural genius to 
mechanical and physical or natural knowledge uncultivated 
and neglected ; which would be of exceeding use and plea- 
sure to them through the whole course of their lives. Ta 
be sure, languages are not to be despised or neglected ; but, 
things are still to be preferred. 

3 Lend not beyond thy ability, nor refuse to lend out of 
thy ability : especially when it will help others more than it 
can hurt thee. If thy debtor be honest and capable, thou 
hast thy money again, if not with increase, with praise. If 
he prove insolvent, do not ruin him to get that which it will 
not ruin thee to lose. 

4 Frugality is good, if liberality be joined with it The 
first is leaving off superfluous expenses ; the last bestowing 
them to the benefit of others that need. The first, without 
the last, begins covetousness ; the last, without the first, be- 
gins prodigality. Both together make an excellent temper. 
Happy the place where that is found. 

5 Were it universal, we should be cured of two extremes, 

M 



134 

want and excess : and the one would supply the other, and so 
bring both nearer to a mean ; the just degree of earthly hap- 
piness. It is a reproach to religion and government, to 
suffer so much poverty and excess. 

6 Were the superfluities of a nation valued, and made a 
perpetual tax for benevolence, there would be more alms- 
houses than poor, schools than scholars, and enough to spare 
for government besides. 

7 Love labor : for if thou dost not want it for food, thou 
mayst for physic. It is wholesome for thy body, and good 
for thy mind. 

8 Neither urge another to that thou wouldst be unwilling 
to do thyself: nor do thyself what looks to thee unseemly, 
and intemperate in another. 

9 The very trimming of the vain world would clothe all 
the naked one. If thou art clean and warm, it is sufficient ; 
for more doth but rob the poor, and please the wanton. 

10 If thou hast done an injury to another, rather own it 
than defend it. One way thou gainest forgiveness ; the 
other, thou doublest the wrong and reckoning. Some op- 
pose honor to submission ; but it can be no honor to maintain 
what it is dishonorable to do. True honor will pay treble 
damages, rather than justify one wrong by another. 

11 In such controversies, it is but too common for some 
to say, "Both are to blame/' to excuse their own uncon- 
cernedness; which is a base neutrality. Others will cry, 
"They are both alike ;" thereby involving the injured with 
the guilty, to mince the matter for the faulty, or cover their 
own injustice to the wronged party. Fear and gain are great 
perverters of mankind : and where either prevails, the judg- 
ment is violated. 

12 If thou thinkest twice before thou speakest once, thou 
wilt speak twice the better for it Better say nothing, than 
not to the purpose. And to speak pertinently, consider both 
what is fit, and when it is fit, to speak. In all debates, let 
truth be thy aim ; not victory, or an unjust interest : and en- 
deavor to gain, rather than to expose, thy antagonist. 

13 Believe nothing against another, but upon good authori- 
ty : nor report what may hurt another, unless it be a greater 
hurt to others to conceal it. 

14 Never assent merely to please others ; for that is, be- 
sides flattery, oftentimes untruth, and discovers a mind to be 
servile and base : nor contradict to vex others ; for that shows 
an ill temper, and provokes, but profits nobody. 



135 

15 Do not aecuse others to excuse thyself; for that is 
neither generous nor just. But let sincerity and ingenuous- 
ness be thy refuge, rather than craft and falsehood : for cun- 
ning borders very near upon knavery. Wisdom never uses 
nor wants it. Cunning to the wise, is as an ape to a man. 

16 A man in business must put up with many affronts, if 
he loves his own quiet. We must not pretend to see all that 
we see, if we would be easy. It were endless to dispute 
upon every thing that is disputable. A vindictive temper is 
not only uneasy to others, but to them that have it. 

17 Avoid, all thou canst, being entrusted ; but do thy ut- 
most to discharge the trust thou undertakest; for carelessness 
is injurious, if not unjust. The glory of a servant is fideli- 
ty, which cannot be without diligence, as well as truth. 

18 Mix kindness with authority ; and rule more by dis- 
cretion than rigor. If thy servant be faulty, strive rather to 
convince him of his error, than to discover thy passion : and 
when he is sensible, forgive him. Let not thy children dom- 
ineer over thy servants; nor suffer them to slight thy children. 

SECTION II. 

1 We are too careless of posterity ; not considering that 
as they are, so the next generation will be. If we would 
amend the world, we should mend ourselves ; and teach our 
children to be, not what we are, but what they should be. 
The country is both the philosopher's garden and library, in 
which he reads and contemplates the power, wisdom, and 
goodness of God. It is his food, as well as study ; and gives 
him life, as well as learning. 

2 The generality are the worse for their plenty. The 
voluptuous consumes it, the miser hides it ; it is the good 
man that uses it, and to good purposes. 

3 Act not the shark upon thy neighbor ; nor take advan- 
tage of the ignorance, prodigality, or necessity of any one ; 
for that is next door to a fraud, and, at best, makes but an 
unblessed gain. 

4 Never esteem any man, or thyself, the more for money; 
nor think the meaner of thyself, or another, for want of it ; 
virtue being the just reason of respecting, and the want of it 
of slighting, any one. A man, like a watch, is to be valued 
for his goings. 

5 They that show more than they are, raise an expecta- 
tion they cannot answer : and so lose their credit, as soon as" 
they are found out. He that does good for good's sake, seeks 



IS6 

neither praise nor reward, though sure of both at last. Con- 
tent not thyself that thou art virtuous in the general ; for one 
link being wanting, the chain is defective. If thou wouldst 
conquer thy weakness, thou must never gratify it. No man 
is compelled to evil ; his consent only makes it his. 

6 Great allowances are made for education and personal 
■weaknesses ; but it is a rule with me, " That man is truly re- 
ligious, that loves the persuasion he is of for the piety, rather 
than the ceremony, of it." They that have one end, can 
hardly disagree when they meet. At least their concern in' 
the greater, moderates their value for, and difference about, 
the lesser things. 

7 It is a sad reflection, that many men hardly have any re- 
ligion at all, and most men have none of their own ; for that 
which is the religion of their education, and not of their 
judgment, is the religion of another, and not theirs. To 
have religion upon authority, and not upon conviction, is like 
a finger-watch, to be set forwards or backwards, as he pleases 
that has it in keeping. 

8 We are too ready to retaliate, rather than forgive, or gain 
by love and information. And yet we could hurt no man 
that we believe loves us. Let us, then, try what love will 
do ; for if men do once see that we love them, we should soon 
find they would not harm us. Force may subdue, but love 
gains ; and he that forgives first, wins the laurel. If I am 
even with my enemy, the debt is paid ; but if I forgive it, I 
oblige him for ever. 

9 "He that lives in love, lives in God," says the beloved 
disciple : and, to be sure, a man can live no where better. 
Love is above all ; and when it prevails in us all, we shall all 
be lovely, and in love with God, and one with another. 

10 The wise man is cautious, but not cunning ; judicious, 
but not crafty ; making virtue the measure of using^ his ex- 
cellent understanding in the conduct of his life. The wise 
man is equal, ready, but not officious ; has in every thing an 
eye to sure footing ; he offends nobody, nor is easily offend- 
ed ; and is always willing to compound for wrongs, if not 
forgive them. 

11 He is never captious, nor critical; hates banter and 
jests ; he may be pleasant, but not light ; he never deals but 
in substantial ware, and leaves the rest for the toy-pates, (or 
shops,) of the world ; which are so far from being his busi- 
ness, that they are not so much as his diversion. 

12 He is always for some solid good, civil or moral : as to 



13V 
make his country more virtuous, preserve her peace and lib- 
erty, employ her poor, improve land, advance trade, sup- 
press vice, encourage industry, and all mechanical know- 
ledge ; and that they should be the care of the government, 
and the blessing and praise of the people. 

13 It is the mark of ill nature, to lessen good actions, and 
aggravate ill ones. Some men do as much begrudge others 
a good name, as they want one themselves ; and perhaps that 
is the reason of it. Nothing shows more the folly, as well 
as fraud of man, than clipping merit and reputation. 

14 This envy is the child of pride; and mis-gives rather than 
mis-takes. It will have charity to be ostentation, sobriety, 
covetousness ; humility, craft; bounty, popularity. In short, 
virtue must be design, and religion only interest. Nay, the 
best of qualities must not pass without a "but" to alloy their 
merit, and abate their praise. Basest of tempers ! and they 
that have it, the worst of men. 

15 But just and noble minds rejoice in other men's suc- 
cess, and help to augment their praise. And, indeed, they 
are not without a love to virtue, that take a satisfaction in 
seeing her rewarded ; and such deserve to share her charac- 
ter, that do abhor to lessen it. 

16 In all things reason should prevail : it is quite another 
thing to be stiff, than steady in an opinion. This may be rea- 
sonable, but that is ever wilful. Though there is a regard 
due to education, and the tradition of our fathers, truth will 
ever deserve, as well as claim the preference. Truth never 
lost ground by inquiry ; because she is, most of all, reason- 
able. 

17 If all men were so far tenants to the public, that the 
superfluities of gain and expense were applied to the exigen- 
cies thereof, it would put an end to taxes, leave not a beggar, 
and make the greatest bank for national trade in Europe. I 
confess I have wondered that so many lawful and useful 
things are excised by laws, and pride left to reign free over 
them and the public. 

18 It is but reasonable that the punishment of pride and 
excess should help to support the government ; since it must 
otherwise inevitably be ruined by them. But some say, "It 
ruins trade,and will make the poor burdensome to the public;" 
but if such trade, in consequence, ruins the kingdom, is it 
not time to ruin that trade ? Is moderation no part of our 
duty, and is temperance an enemy to government? 

19 Is there no better employment for the poor than lux- 

Ma 



138 
ury? Miserable nation! What did they before they fell into 
these forbidden methods ? Is there not land enough in Eng- 
land [or America] to cultivate, and more and better manu- 
factures to be made ? 

20 Have we no room for them in our plantations, about 
things that may augment trade, without luxury ? In short, let 
pride pay, and excess be well excised ; and if that will not 
cure the people, it will help to keep the government. 

21 It is a dangerous perversion of the design of Provi- 
dence, to consume the time, power and wealth, he has given 
us above other men, to gratify our sordid passions, instead 
of playing the good stewards, to the honor of our great Ben- 
efactor and the good of our fellow creatures. 

22 When the poor Indians hear us call any of our family 
by the name of servants, they cry out, " What ! call brethren 
servants! we call our dogs servants, but never men." The 
moral certainly can do us no harm, but may instruct us to 
ebate our height and narrow our state and attendance. 

23 Charity has various senses, but is excellent in all of 
them. It imparts, first, the commiseration of the poor and 
unhappy of mankind, and extends a helping hand to mend 
their condition. 

24 I will not say these works are meritorious, but I dare 
say they are acceptable, and go not without their reward; 
though, to humble us in our fulness, and liberality too, we 
only give what is given to us to give, as well as to use: for 
if we ourselves are not our own, less is that so, which God 
has entrusted us with. 

25 Next, charity makes the best construction of things 
and persons; and is so far from being an evil spy, a back- 
biter, or a detractor, that it excuses weakness, extenuates 
miscarriages, makes the best of every thing, forgives every 
body, serves all, and hopes to the end. 

26 It moderates extremes, is always for expedients, labors 
to accommodate differences, and had rather suffer than re- 
venge: and is so far from exacting the utmost farthing, that 
it had rather lose, than seek its own violently. As it acts 
freely, so zealously too; but it is always to da good, for it 
hurts nobody. 

27 A universal enemy against discord, and a holy cement 
for mankind. And lastly, it is love to God and the brethren, 
which - raises the soul above all worldly considerations; and 
as it skives a taste of heaven upon earth, so it is heaven, in 
the fulness of it, to the truly charitable here* 



139 

28 Would to God this divine virtue were more implanted 
and diffused among mankind, the pretenders to Christianity 
especially; and we should certainly mind piety more than 
controversy ; and exercise love and compassion, instead of 
censuring and persecuting one another, in any manner what- 
soever. 



SECTION III. 
Selections from the advice of William Penn to his 
children. 
My dear children, 

1 Not knowing how long it may please God to continue 
me among you, I am willing to embrace this opportunity of 
leaving you my advice and counsel, with respect to your 
Christian and civil capacity and duty in this world: and I 
both beseech you, and charge you, by the relation you have 
to me, and the affection I have always shown to, and indeed 
received from, you, that you lay up the same in your hearts, 
as well as your heads, w r ith a wise and religious care. 

2 I will begin with that which is the beginning of all true 
wisdom and happiness, the holy fear of God. Children, fear 
God; that is to say, have a holy awe upon your minds, to 
avoid that which is evil, and a strict care to embrace and do 
that which is good. 

3 Prefer the aged, the virtuous, and the knowing ; and 
choose those that excel, for your company and friendship, but 
despise not others. 

4 Return no answer to anger, unless with much meekness, 
which often turns it away: but rarely make replies, less re- 
joinders; for that adds fuel to the fire. It is a wrong time to 
vindicate yourselves, the true ear being then never open to 
hear it. Men are not themselves, and know not well what 
spirits they are of; silence to passion, prejudice and mock- 
ery, is the best answer, and often conquers what resistance 
ijiflames. 

5 Learn, and teach your children, fair writing, and the 
most useful parts of mathematics, and some business, when 
young, whatever else they are taught. Cast up your incomes 
and live on half; if you can, one third; reserving the rest for 
casualties, charities, portions. 

6 The pomp, honor, and luxury of the world are the cheats, 
and ..he unthinking and inconsiderate are taken by them. 
But the retired man is upon higher ground, he sees and is aware 
of the trick, contemns the folly, and bemoans the deluded. 



140 

7 This very consideration, doubtless, produced those 
two passions in the two greatest Gentiles of their time, 
Democritus and Heraclitus, the one laughing, the other weep- 
ing, for the madness of the world, to see so excellent, reason- 
able a creature as man, so meanly, trifling, and slavishly 
employed. 

8 He lives happily, that lives privately, for he lives qui- 
etly. It is a treasure to them that have it : study it, get it, 
keep it : too many miss it that might have it : the world 
knows not the value of it It doubles a man's life, by giving 
him twice the time to himself, that a large acquaintance or 
much business will allow him. 

9 Be entreatable. Never aggravate. Never revile, or 
give ill names. It is unmannerly, as well as unchristian. Be 
not morose nor conceited; one is rude, the other troublesome 
and nauseous. 

10 Be humble : it becomes a creature, a depending and 
borrowed being, that lives not of itself, but breathes in an- 
other's air, with another's breath, and is accountable for every 
moment of time, and can call nothing its own, but is abso- 
lutely a tenant at will of the great Lord of heaven and earth. 

1 1 Humility seeketh not the last word, nor first place ; 
she offends none, but prefers others, and thinks lowly of 
herself; is not rough or self-conceited, high, loud, or dom- 
ineering ; blessed are they that enjoy her. 

12 A meek man is one that is not easily provoked, yet 
easily grieved; not peevish or testy, but soft, gentle, and in- 
offensive. blessed will you be, my dear children, if this 
grace adorn you. Patience is an effect of a meek spirit, and 
flows from it : it is a bearing and suffering disposition ; not 
choleric or soon moved to wrath, or vindictive ; but ready 
to hear and endure too, rather than be swift and hasty in 
judgment or action. 

13 Show mercy whenever it is in your power; that is, 
forgive, pity, and help, for so it signifies. But the merciful 
man's mercy reaches farther, even to his beast; thea surely 
to man, his fellow creature, he shall not want it. Wherefore 
I charge you, oppress nobody, man nor beast. 

14 Take no advantage upon the unhappy, pity the afflicted, 
make the case your own, and that of their wives and poor 
innocent children the condition of yours, and you cannot 
want sympathy, forgiveness^ *nor a disposition to help and 
succour them to your ability. 

15 Charity is a near neighbor to mercy; it is generally 






141 

taken to consist in this, not to be censorious, and to relieve 
the poor. Be clear yourselves before you fling the stone. 
Get the beam out of your own eye; it is humbling doctrine 
but safe. 

16 This part of charity also excludes whispering, back 
biting, tale bearing, evil surmising; most pernicious follies 
and evils, of which beware. For the other part of charity, 
relieving the poor, it is a debt you owe to God: yeu have all 
you have or may enjoy, with the rent charge upon it. 

17 1 recommend little children, widows, infirm and aged 
persons, chiefly to you. Avoid that great sin of needless ex- 
pense on your persons and on your houses, while the poor 
are hungry and naked : my bowels have often been moved, 
to see very aged and infirm people, but especially poor help- 
less children, lie all night, in bitter weather, at the thresh- 
olds of doors in the open streets, for w r ant of better lodging. 

18 I have made this reflection, if you were so exposed, 
how hard would it be to endure ? The difference between our 
condition and theirs has drawn from me humble thanks to 
God, and great compassion and some supply to those poor 
creatures. Once more, be good to the poor: w r hat do I say? 
Be just to them, and you will be good to yourselves: think 
it yourduty, and do it religiously. 

19 Liberality or bounty is a noble quality in man, enter- 
tained of few, yet praised of all, but the covetous dislike it, 
because it reproaches their sordidness. In this she differs 
from charity, that she has sometimes other objects, and ex- 
ceeds in proportion. For she will cast her eye on those that 
do not absolutely want, as well as those that do; and always 
outdoes necessities and services. 

20 She finds out virtue in a low degree, and exalts it. She 
eases their burden that labor hard to live. The decayed are 
sure to hear of her. She takes one child, puts out another, 
to lighten the loads of overcharged parents; more to the 
fatherless. 

21 Wheresoever, therefore, my dear children, liberality is 
required of you, God enabling of you, sow not sparingly nor 
grudgingly, but with a cheerful mind, and you shall not go 
without your reward; though that ought not to be your mo- 
tive. But avoid ostentation, for that is using virtue to vanity, 
which will run you to profuseness, and that to want; which 
begets greediness, and that avarice, the contrary extreme. 

22 Integrity is a great and commendable virtue A man 
of integrity, is a true man, a bold man, and a steady man ; 



142 






he is to be trusted and relied upon. No bribes can corrupt * 
him, no fear daunt him: his word is slow in coming, but sure. 
He runs with truth, and not with the times. 

23 There is no living upon the principal, you must be dili- 
gent to preserve what you have, whether it be acquisition or 
inheritance; else it will consume. As I would have you 
liberal, but not prodigal ; and diligent, but not drudging ; so 
I would have you frugal, but not sordid. 

24 You cannot be too plain in your diet, so you are clean ; 
nor too sparing, so you have enough for nature. Much less 
feast any, except the poor ; as Christ taught. Luke xvi. 12, 
13. For entertainments are rarely without sin; but receive 
strangers readily. 

25 As in diet, so in apparel, observe, I charge you, an ex- 
emplary plainness. Choose your clothes for their usefulness, 
not the fashion, and for covering, not finery, or to please a 
vain mind in yourselves or others : they are fallen souls, that 
think clothes can give beauty to man. 

26 " The life is more than the raiment. " Mat. vi. 25. 
Man cannot mend God's work, who can give neither life nor 
parts. They show little esteem for the wisdom and power of 
their Creator, that underrate his workmanship, (I was going 
to say, his image) to a tailor's invention : gross folly and 
profanity ! 

21 In short, these intemperances are great enemies to 
health, and to posterity ; for they disease the body, rob chil- 
dren, and disappoint charity, and are of evil example ; very 
catching, as well as pernicious evils. Nor do they end there : 
they are succeeded by other vices, which made the apostle put 
them together in his epistle to the Galatians, chap. v. 20, 21. 

28 The evil fruits of this part of intemperance, are so 
many and great, that, upon a serious reflection, I believe there 
is not a country, town, or family, almost, that does not labor 
under the mischief of it. 

'29 But the virtue of temperance does not only regard eat- 
ing, drinking, and apparel, but furniture, attendance, expense, 
gain, parsimony, business, diversion, company, speech, sleep- 
ing, watchings, and every passion of the mind, love, anger, 
pleasure, joy, sorrow, resentment, are all concerned in it : 
therefore, bound your desires, teach ^our wills subjection, 
take Christ for your example, as well as guide. 



145 
CHAPTER 2. 

ABRIDGEMENT OF THE PRINCIPLES OP MORAL ANJ) POLITICAL 
PHILOSOPHY. BY WM. PALEY, D. D. 

SECTION I. 

• 

Definition and use of the science. 

1 Moral philosophy, morality, ethics, casuistry, natural 
law, mean all the same thing ; namely, That science which 
teaches men their duty, and the reasons of it. The use of 
such a study depends upon this, that, without it, the rules of 
life by which men are ordinarily governed, oftentimes mislead 
them, through a defect either in the rule, or in the applica- 
tion. These rules are, the law of honor, the law of the 
land, and the scriptures. 

2 The law of honor. — The law of honor is a system of 
rules constructed by people of fashion, and calculated to fa- 
cilitate their intercourse with one another ; and for no other 
purpose. Consequently, nothing is adverted to by the law 
of honor, but what tends to incommode this intercourse. 
Hence, this law only prescribes and regulates the duties be- 
twixt equals ; omitting such as relate to the Supreme Being, 
as well as those which we owe to our inferiors. 

3 The law of the land. — That part of mankind who are 
beneath the law of honor, often make the law of the land 
their rule of life ; that is, they are satisfied with themselves, 
so long as they do or omit nothing, for the doing or omitting 
of which the law can punish them. 

4 Whereas, every system of human laws, considered as a 
rule of life, labors under the two following defects : 1. Hu- 
man laws omit many duties, as not objects of compulsion ; 
such as piety to God, bounty to the poor, forgiveness of inju- 
ries, education of children, gratitude to benefactors. 2. Hu- 
man laws permit, or what is the same, suffer to go unpunish- 
ed, many crimes, because they are incapable of being defined 
by any previous description : of which nature, are luxury, 
prodigality, disrespect to parents, &c. 

5 The Scriptures. — Whoever expects to find in the scrip- 
tures a specific direction for every moral doubt that arises, 
looks for more than he will meet with. And to what a mag- 
nitude such a detail of particular precepts would have en- 
larged the sacred volume, may be partly understood from the 
fallowing consideration : — 

6 The laws of this country, (England,) including the acts 



144 
of the legislature, and the decisions of our supreme courts of 
justice, are not contained in fewer than fifty folio volumes ; 
and yet it is not once in ten attempts that you can find the 
case you look for, in any law book whatever ; to say nothing 
of those numerous points of conduct, concerning which the 
law professes not to prescribe or determine any thing. 

7 Had then the same particularity, which obtains in human 
law so far as they go, been attempted in the scriptures, 
throughout the whole extent of morality, it is manifest they 
would have been by much too bulky to be either r$ad or cir- 
culated ; or rather^ as St. John says, "even the world itself 
could not contain the books that should be written." 



SECTION II. 
Human Happiness. 

1 It will be our business to show^ if we can : 

I. What human happiness does not consist in ; 

II. What it does consist in. 

2 First then, happiness does not consist in the pleasures of 
sense, in whatever profusion or variety they may be enjoyed. 
By the pleasures of sense I mean, as well the animal gratifi- 
cations of eating, drinking, &c. as the more refined pleasures 
of music, painting, architecture, gardening, splendid shows, 
theatric exhibitions, and the pleasures, lastly, of active sports, 
as of hunting, shooting, fishing, &c. For, 

3 1st. These pleasures continue but a little w T hile at a time. 
This is true of them all, especially of the grosser sort of 
them. Laying aside the preparation and the expectation, 
and computing strictly the actual sensation, we shall be sur- 
prised to find how inconsiderable a portion of our time they 
occupy, how few hours, in the four and twenty, they are 
able to fill up. 

4 2dly. These pleasures, by repetition, lose their relish. It 
is a property of the machine, for which we know no remedy, 
that the organs, by which we perceive pleasure, are blunted 
and benumbed by being frequently exercised in the same 
way. There is hardly any one who has not found the differ- 
ence between a gratification when new, and when familiar ; 
or any pleasure which does not become indifferent as it grows 
habitual. 

5 3dly. The eagerness for high and intense delights takes 
away the relish from all others ; and as such delights fall 
rarely in our way? the greater part of our time becomes, 
frotn this cause, empty and uneasy. 



145 

6 There is hardly any delusion by which men are greater 
sufferers in their happiness, than by their expecting too much 
from what is called pleasure; that is, from those intense de- 
lights which vulgarly engross the name of pleasure. The 
very expectation spoils them. When they do come, we are 
often engaged in taking pains to persuade ourselves how 
much we are pleased, rather than enjoying any pleasure 
that springs naturally out of the object. 

7 And whenever we depend upon being vastly delighted, 
we always go home secretly grieved at missing our aim. 
Likewise, as hath been observed just now, when this humor 
of being prodigiously delighted has once taken hold of the 
imagination, it hinders us from providing for, or acquiescing 
in, those gently soothing engagements, the due variety and 
succession of which are the only things that supply a con- 
tinued stream of happiness. 

8 What I have been able to observe of that part of mankind 
whose professed pursuit is pleasure, and who are withheld in 
the pursuit by no restraints of fortune, or scruples of con- 
science, corresponds sufficiently with this account. I have 
commonly remarked, in such men, a restless and inextin- 
guishable passion for variety; a great part of their time to be 
vacant, and so much of it irksome ; and that, with whatever 
eagerness and expectation they set out, they become, by 
degrees, fastidious in their choice of pleasure, languid in the 
enjoyment, yet miserable under the want of it. 

9 The truth seems to be that there is a limit at which the 
pleasures soon arrive, and from which they ever afterwards 
decline. They are of necessity of short duration, as the or- 
gans cannot hold on their emotions beyond a certain length 
of time; and if you endeavor to compensate for the imper- 
fection in their nature, by the frequency with which you re- 
peat them, you lose more than you gain, by the fatigue of 
the faculties and the diminution of sensibility. 

10 We have said nothing in this account of the loss of 
opportunities, or the decay of faculties, which, whenever 
they happen, leave the voluptuary destitute and desperate, 
teased by desires which can never be gratified, and the 
memory of pleasures which must return no more. 

1 1 It will also be allowed by those who have experienced 
it, and perhaps by those alone, that pleasure which is pur- 
chased by the incumbrance of our fortune is purchased too 
dear; the pleasure never compensating for the perpetual irri- 
tation of embarrassed circumstances. 

N 



146 

\% These pleasures, after all, have their value: and as the 
young are always too eager in their pursuit of them, the old 
are sometimes too remiss; that is, too studious of their ease 
to be at the pains for them, which they really deserve. 

13 Secondly. Neither does happiness consist in an exemp- 
tion from pain, labor, care, business, suspense, molestation, 
and "those evils which are without;" such a state being 
usually attended not with ease, but with depression of spirits, 
a tastelessness in all our ideas, imaginary anxieties, and the 
whole train of hypochondriacal affections. 

14 For which reason, it seldom answers the expectations 
of those who retire from their shops and counting houses to 
enjoy the remainder of their days in leisure and tranquillity ; 
much less of such as in a fit of chagrin shut themselves up in 
cloisters and hermitages, or quit the world and their stations 
in it, for solitude and repose. 

15 Thirdly. Neither does happiness consist in greatness, 
rank or elevated station. No superiority appears to be of 
any account but superiority over a rival. Philosophy smiles 
at the contempt with which the rich and great speak of the 
petty strifes and competitions of the poor, not reflecting that 
these strifes and competitions are just as reasonable as their 
own, and the pleasure, which success affords, the same. 

16 Our position is, that happiness does not consist in great- 
ness. And this position we make out by showing, that even 
what are supposed to be the peculiar advantages of greatness, 
the pleasures of ambition and superiority, are, in reality, 
common to all conditions. 

17 All that can be said is, that there remains a presump- 
tion in favor of those conditions of life in which men generally 
appear most cheerful and contented. For though the appar- 
ent happiness of mankind be not always a true measure of 
their real happiness, it is the best measure we have. 

18 Taking this for my guide, I am inclined to believe 
that happiness consists, 

I. In the exercise of the social affections. Those persons 
commonly possess good spirits who have about them many 
objects of affection and endearment, as wife, children, kin- 
dred, friends. And to the want of these may be imputed 
the peevishness of monks, and of such as lead a monastic 
life. 

19 Of the same nature with the indulgence of our domes- 
tic affections, and equally refreshing to the spirits, is the 
pleasure which results from acts of bounty and beneficence, 



147 

exercised either in giving money, or in imparting to those 
who want it, the assistance of our skill and profession. 

20 Another main article of human happiness is, 

II. The exercise of our faculties, either of body or mind, 
m the pursuit of some engaging end. It seems to be true, 
that no plenitude of present gratifications, can make the pos- 
sessor happy for a continuance, unless he have something in 
reserve — something to hope for, and look forward to. 

21 This I conclude to be the case from comparing the 
alacrity and spirits of men, who are engaged in any pursuit 
which interests them, with the dejection and ennui of almost 
all, who are either born to so much that they want nothing 
more, or who have used up their satisfactions too soon, and 
drained the * sources of them. Hence those pleasures are 
most valuable, not which is most excellent in the fruition, but 
which are most productive of engagement and activity in 
the pursuit. 

22 Engagement is every thing. The more significant, 
however, our engagements are, the better ; such as the plan- 
ning of laws, institutions, manufactures, charities, improve- 
ments, public works ; and the endeavoring, by our interest, 
address, solicitations, and activity, to carry them into effect ; 
or upon a smaller scale, the procuring of maintenance and for- 
tune for our families, by a course of industry and application 
to our callings, w r hich forms and gives motion to the com- 
mon occupations of life ; 

23 Training up a child ; prosecuting a scheme for his fu- 
ture establishment ; making ourselves masters of a language 
or a science; improving or managing an estate; laboring after 
a piece of preferment ; and lastly, any engagement, which is 
innocent, is better than none ; as the writing of a book, the 
building of a house, the laying out of a garden, the digging 
of a fish-pond ; even the raising of a cucumber or a tulip. 

24 Whilst the mind is taken up with the objects of busi- 
ness before us, we are commonly happy, whatever the object 
or business be : when the mind is absent, and the thoughts 
are wandering to something else than what is passing in the 
place in which we are, we are often miserable. 

25 III. Happiness depends upon the prudent constitution 
of the habits. The art in which the secret of human happiness 
in a great measure consists, is to set the habits in such a man- 
ner, that every change may be a change for the better. The 
habits themselves, are much the same ; for whatever is made 
habitual, becomes smooth, and easy, and nearly indifferent. 



1 48 

26 The return to an old habit is likewise easy, whatever 
'file habit be. Therefore, the advantage is with those habits 
which allow of indulgence in the deviation from them. The 
luxurious receive no greater pleasure, from their dainties, 
than the peasant does from his bread and cheese ; but the 
peasant whenever he goes abroad, finds a feast ; whereas, the 
epicure must be well entertained to escape disgust. 

27 IV. Happiness consists in health. By health I under* 
stand, as well freedom from bodily distempers, as that tran 
quillity, firmness, and alacrity of mind, which we call good 
spirits ; and which may properly enough be included in our 
notion of health, as depending commonly upon the same 
causes, and yielding to the same management, as our bodily 
constitution. 

28 Health, in this sense, is the one thing needful. There- 
fore no pains, expense, self-denial, or restraint, to which we 
subject ourselves, for the sake of health, is too much. Wheth- 
er it require us to relinquish lucrative situations, to abstain 
from favorite indulgences, to control intemperate passions, 
or undergo tedious regimens ; whatever difficulties it lays us 
under, a man who pursues his happiness rationally and reso- 
lutely, will be content to submit to. 

29 When we are in perfect health and spirits, we feel in 
ourselves a happiness independent of any particular outward 
gratification whatever, and of which we can give no account. 
This is an enjoyment which the Deity has annexed to life ; 
and probably constitutes, in a great measure, the happiness of 
infants and brutes, especially of the lower and sedentary or- 
ders of animals, as of oysters, periwinkles, and the like ; for 
which I have sometimes been at a loss to find out amusement. 

30 The above account of human happiness will justify the 
two following conclusions, which, although found in most 
books of morality, have seldom, I think, been supported by 
any sufficient reasons. First, That happiness is pretty equal- 
ly distributed amongst the different orders of civil society. 
Secondly, That vice has no advantage over virtue, even with 
respect to this world's happiness. 

SECTION III. 
Virtue. 
1 The four Cardinal virtues are, prudence, fortitude, tem- 
perance, and justice. But the division of virtue, to which we 
are nowadays most accustomed, is into duties, Towards 
God; as piety, reverence, resignation, gratitude* &e; To- 



149 

wards other men (cr relative duties ;) as justice, charity, 
fidelity, &c. Towards ourselves ; as chastity, sobriety, tern 
perance, preservation of life, care of health, &c. 

2 I shall proceed to state a few observations, which relate 
to the general regulation of human conduct; unconnected in- 
deed, with each other, but very worthy of attention; — Man- 
kind act more from habit than reflection. 

3 It is on few, only, and great occasions, that men delib- 
erate at all; on fewer still, that they institute any thing like 
a regular inquiry into the moral rectitude or depravity of 
what they are about to do; or wait for the result of it. We 
are for the most part determined at once ; and by an impulse, 
which is the effect and energy of pre-established habits. And 
this constitution seems well adapted to the exigencies of 
human life, and to the imbecility of our moral principle. 

4 If we are in so great a degree passive under our habits, 
where, it is asked, is the exercise of virtue, the guilt of vice, 
or any use of moral and religious knowledge ? I answer, in 
the forming and contracting of these habits. There are 
habits, not only of drinking, swearing, and lying, and of 
some other things, which are commonly acknowledged to be 
habits, and called so ; but of every modification of action, 
speech, and thought. Man is a bundle of habits. 

5 Without entering into a detail of scripture morality, 
which would anticipate our subject, the following general 
positions may be advanced,, I think, with safety: 1. That a 
state of happiness is not to be expected by those who are con- 
scious of no moral or religious rule. 2. That a state of hap- 
piness is not to be expected by those who reserve to them- 
selves the habitual practice of any one sin, or neglect of one 
known duty. 

SECTION IV. 
The Divine Benevolence. 

1 When God created the human species, either he wished 
their happiness, or he wished their misery, or he was indiffer- 
ent and unconcerned about both. 

2 If he had wished our misery, he might have made sure 
of his purpose, by forming our senses to be as many sores 
and pains to us, as they are now instruments of gratification 
and enjoyment; or by placing us amidst objects so ill suited 
to our perceptions, as to have continually offended us, instead 
of ministering to our refreshment and delight. He might 
have made, for example, every thing we tasted bitter; every 

N2 



150 

thing we saw loathsome ; every thing we touched a sting ; 
every smell a stench; and every sound a discord. 

3 If he had been indifferent about our happiness or misery, 
we must impute to our good fortune (as all design by this 
supposition is excluded,) both the capacity of our senses to 
receive pleasure, and the supply of external objects fitted to 
produce it. 

4 But either of these, and still more both of them, being 
too much to be attributed to accident, nothing remains but the 
first supposition, that God, when he created the human spe- 
cies, wished their happiness, and made for them the provision 
which be has made, with that view, and for that purpose. 

5 The same argument may be proposed in different terms, 
thus: Contrivance proves design; and the predominant ten- 
dency of the contrivance indicates the disposition of the 
designer. The world abounds with contrivances; and all the 
contrivances which we are acquainted with, are directed to 
beneficial purposes. 

6 Evil no doubt exists ; but is never, that we can perceive, 
the object of contrivance. Teeth are contrived to eat, not to 
ache; their aching now and then is incidental to the contriv- 
ance, perhaps, inseparable from it ; or even, if you will, let 
it be called a defect in the contrivance ; but it is not the object 
of it. This is a distinction which well deserves to be attend- 
ed to. 

7 In describing implements of husbandry, you would 
hardly say of a sickle, that it is made to cut the reaper's fin- 
gers, though from the construction of the instrument, and the 
manner of using it, this mischief often happens. 

S But if you had occasion to describe instruments of tor* 
ture or execution, this engine, you would say, is to extend 
the sinews^ this to dislocate the joints; this to break the bones; 
this to scorch the soles of the feet. Here pain and misery 
are the very objects of the contrivance* Now nothing of this 
sort is to be found in the works of nature. We never dis- 
oover a train of contrivance to bring about an evil purpose. 

9 Since, then, God hath called forth his consummate wis- 
dom to contrive and provide for our happiness, and the world 
appears to have been constituted with this design- at first, so 
long as this constitution is upholden by him, we must in 
reason suppose the same design to continue. 

10 The contemplation of universal nature rather bewil- 
ders the mind than affects it. i There is always a bright spot 
m the prospect upon which the eye rests^ a single example* 



151 

perhaps, by which each man finds himself more convinced" 
than by all others put together. I seem, for my own part,- to 
see the benevolence of the Deity more clearly in the plea- 
sures of very young children than in any thing in the world, 

11 The pleasure of grown persons may be reckoned 
partly of their own procuring ; especially if there has been 
any industry, or contrivance, or pursuit, to come at them; or 
if they are founded, like music, painting, &c. upon any qual- 
ification of their own acquiring. 

12 But the pleasures of a healthy infant are so manifestly 
provided for it by another, and the benevolence of the pro- 
vision is so unquestionable, that every child I see at its sport 
affords to my mind a kind of sensible evidence of the finger 
of God, and of the disposition which directs it. 

13 But the example which strikes each man most strongly 
is, the true example for him ; and hardly two minds hit upon 
the same; which shows the abundance of such example* 
about us. 

14 We conclude, therefore, that God wills and wishes the 
happiness of his creatures. And this conclusion being once 
established, we are at liberty to go on with the rule built upon 
it, namely, " that the method of coming at the will of God, 
concerning any action by the light of nature, is to inquire 
into the tendency of that action to promote or diminish the 
general happiness." 

SECTION V. 

Promises; contracts of sale; concerning the lending of 

money; of labor. 

1 From whence the obligation to perform promises 
arises. They who argue from innate, moral principles, sup- 
pose a sense of the obligation of promises to be one of them ;. 
but, without assuming this, or any thing else, without proof,, 
the obligation to perform promises may be deduced from the 
necessity of such a conduct to the well-being, or the existence 
indeed, of human society. 

2 Men act from expectation. Expectation is, in most 
eases, determined by the assurances and engagements which 
we receive from others. If no dependence could be placed 
upon these assurances, it would be impossible to know what 
judgment to form of many future events, or how to regulate 
our conduct with respect to them. 

3 Confidence, therefore, in promises, is essential to the in- 
tercourse of human life ; because, without it, the greatest 



152 

part *of our conduct would proceed upon chance. But there 
could be no confidence in promises, if men were not obliged 
to perform them : the obligation, therefore, to perform prom- 
ises, is essential to the same end and in the same degree. 

4 The rule of justice which wants most to be inculcated 
in the making of bargains, is, that the seller is bound in con- 
science to disclose the faults of what he offers for sale. 

5 To this of concealing the faults of what we want to put 
off, may be referred the practice of passing bad money. This 
practice we sometimes hear defended by a vulgar excuse, that 
we have taken the money for good, and therefore must get 
ri<l of it. Which excuse is much the same as if one, who 
had been robbed upon the highway, should allege he had a 
right to reimburse himself out of the pocket of the first 
traveller he met ; the justice of which reasoning the travel- 
ler possibly may not comprehend. 

6 Whoever borrows money is bound in conscience to re- 
pay it. This every man can see ; but every man cannot see, 
or does not, however, reflect, that he is, in consequence, also 
bound to use the means necessary to enable himself to repay it, 

7 "If he pay the money when he has it, or has it to spare. 
he does all that an honest man can do," and all he imagines 
that is required of him, whilst the previous measures which are 
necessary to furnish him with the money? he makes no part 
of his care, nor observes to be as much his duty as the other ; 

8 Such as selling a family seat, or a family estate, contract- 
ing his plan of expense, laying down his equipage, reducing 
the number of his servants, or any of those humiliating sac- 
rifices, which justice requires of a man in debt, the moment 
he perceives that he has no reasonable prospect of paying his 
debts without them. 

9 An expectation which depends upon the continuance of 
his own life, will not satisfy an honest man if a better provi- 
sion be in his power : for it is a breach of faith to subject a 
creditor, when we can help it, to the risk of our life, be the 
event what it will ; that not being the security to which 
credit was given. 

10 Service in this country [England] is, as it ought to be, 
voluntary, and by contract; and the master's authority ex- 
tends no farther than the terms or equitable construction of 
the contract will justify. 

11 A servant is not bound to obey the unlawful com- 
mands of his master ; to minister, for instance, to his un- 
lawful pleasures, or to assist him by unlawful practices in his 



153 
profession ; as in smuggling or adulterating the articles In 

which he deals. For the servant is bound by nothing but 
his own promise ; and the obligation of a promise, extends 
not to things unlawful. 

12 For the same reason, the master's authority is no justifi- 
cation of the servant in doing wrong; for the servant's own 
promise, upon which that authority is founded, would be none. 

13 Clerks and apprentices ought to be employed entirely 
in the profession or trade which they are intended to learn. 
Instruction is their hire, and to deprive them of the opportu- 
nities of instruction, by taking up their time with occupations 
foreign to their business, is to defraud them of their wages. 

14 A master 'of a family is culpable, if he permit any 
vices among his domestics, which he might restrain by due 
discipline and a proper interference. This results from the 
general obligation to prevent misery when in our power; 
and the assurance which we have, that vice and misery, at 
the long run, go together. 

SECTION VI. 
Lies ; revenge; duelling ; slander. 

1 A lie is a breach of promise; for whoever seriously ad> 
Presses his discourse to another, tacitly promises to speak the 
truth, because he knows that the truth is expected. 

2 Or the obligation of veracity may be made out from the 
direct ill consequences of lying to social happiness. Which 
consequences consist, either in some specific injury to parti- 
cular individuals, or in the destruction of that confidence, 
which is essential to the intercourse q{ human life : for which 
latter reason, a lie may be pernicious in its general tendency, 
and therefore criminal, though it produce no particular or 
visible mischief to any one. 

3 All pain occasioned to another in consequence of an of- 
fence, or injury received from him, farther than what is cal- 
culated to procure reparation, or promote the just ends of 
punishment, is so much revenge. It is highly probable, from 
the light of nature, that a passion, which seeks its gratifica- 
tion immediately and expressly in giving pain, is disagreea- 
ble to the benevolent will and counsels of the Creator. 

4 The feuds and animosities in families and between neigh- 
bors, which disturb the intercourse of human life, and collec- 
tively compose half the misery of it, have their foundation in 
the w r ant of a forgiving temper; and can never cease, but by 
the exercise of this virtue, on one side or both. 



154 

5 Duelling, as a punishment, is absurd, because it is an 
equal chance, whether the punishment fall upon the offender 
or the person offended. Nor is it much better as a reparation; 
it being difficult to explain in what the satisfaction consists, 
or how it tends to undo the injury, or to afford a compensa- 
tion for the damage already sustained. 

6 For the army, where the point of honor is cultivated 
with exquisite attention and refinement, I would establish a 
court of honor, with a power of awarding those submissions 
and acknowledgments, which it is generally the purpose of 
a challenge to obtain; and it might grow into fashion, with 
persons of rank of all professions, to refer their quarrels to 
the same tribunal. 

7 Malicious slander, is the relating of either truth or false- 
hood for the purpose of creating misery. I acknowledge that 
the truth or falsehood of what is related varies the degree of 
guilt considerably : and that slander, in the ordinary accepta- 
tion of the term, signifies the circulation of mischievous false- 
hood ; but truth may be made instrumental to the success of 
malicious designs as well as falsehood; and if the end be bad, 
the means cannot be innocent. Information communicated 
for the real purpose of warning or cautioning, is not slander. 

SECTION VII. 
Of the duty of parents. Education. 

1 Education, in the most extensive sense of the word, may 
comprehend every preparation that is made in our youth for 
the sequel of our lives; and in this sense I use it. 

2 Some such preparation is necessary for children of all 
conditions, because, without it, they must be miserable, and 
probably will be vicious, when they grow up, either from 
want of means of subsistence, or from want of rational and 
inoffensive occupation. In civilized life, every thing is ■effect- 
ed by art and skill. 

3 Whence a person who is provided with neither (and 
neither can be acquired without exercise and instructions) 
will be useless ; and he that is useless, will generally be at 
the same time mischievous to the community. So that to 
send an uneducated child into the world is injurious to the 
rest of mankind. 

4 In the inferior classes of community, this principle con- 
demns the neglect of parents, who do not inure their chil- 
dren by times to labor and restraint, by providing them 
with apprenticeships, services, or other regular employment, 



155 

but who suffer them to waste their youth in idleness and va- 
grancy, or to betake themselves to some lazy, trifling, and pre- 
carious calling ; for the consequence of having thus tasted 
the sweets of natural liberty, at an age when their passion 
and relish for it are at the highest, is, that they become 
incapable for the remainder of their lives of continued indus- 
try, or of persevering attention to any thing ; spend their 
time in a miserable struggle between the importunity of w T ant, 
and the irksomeness of regular application ; and are prepared 
to embrace every expedient, which presents a hope of sup- 
plying their necessities without confining them to the plow, 
the loom, the shop, or the counting house. 

5 A man of fortune who permits his son to consume the 
season of education, in hunting, shooting, or in frequenting 
horse, races, assemblies, or other unedifying, if not vicious 
diversions, defrauds the community of a benefactor, and 
bequeaths them a nuisance. 

6 The health and virtue of a child's future life are consid- 
erations so superior to all others, that whatever is likely to 
have the smallest influence upon these, deserves the parent's 
first attention. In respect of health, agriculture, and all 
active, rural, and out-of-door employments, are to be prefer- 
red to manufactures and sedentary occupations. 

7 In respect of virtue, a course of dealings in which the 
advantage is mutual, in which the profit on one side is con- 
nected with the benefit of the other (which is the case in 
trade, and all serviceable art or labor,) is more favorable to the 
moral character, than callings in which one man's gain is an- 
other's loss, in which, what you acquire, is acquired without 
equivalent, and parted with in distress. For security, man- 
ual arts exceed merchandise, and such as supply the wants of 
mankind are better than those which minister to their plea- 
sure. 



156 
CHAPTER 3. 

ABRIDGMENT OP BARON KNIGGE's PRACTICAL PHILOSOPHY 
OF SOCIAL LIFE, OR THE ART OF CONVERSING WITH MEN % 
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN, BY THE REV. P. WILL. 

The advantages which I have derived from the study and application of 
the excellent observations and rules which this work contains, and the 
salutary effects which I have seen it produce in the life of those of my 
pupils to whom I have recommended it, and who followed the sage instruc- 
tions with which it abounds, made me wish most ardently, to see it dress- 
ed in an English garb, and circulated in a country which is so dear to me. 
It went through five editions in the course of a few years, and, if I may 
presume to judge of its usefulness, from my own experience, stands fore- 
most amongst all the books which ever have been written to promote so- 
cial happiness. Translator* 

SECTION I. 
General rules and observations to guide us in conversa- 
tion with ?nen. 

1 Strive to render yourself perfect; but avoid -the ap- 
pearance of perfection and infallibility. Be however not 
too much the slave of the opinion which others form of you. 
Be self-consistent ! What need have you to care for the cen- 
sure of the world if you act as you ought to do ? Your whole 
wardrobe of external virtues is not worth a pin, if you con- 
ceal a weak and mean .heart under that tinsel dress, and put 
it on only to make a show with it in companies. 

2 Above all things take care not to lose your confidence in 
yourself, your trust in God, in good men and fortune. Dis- 
close never in an ungenerous manner the defects of your neigh- 
bor, in order to sound your own praise at his expense ; noi 
expose the failings of others to shine with additional lustre. 

3 No rule is more generally useful, none ought to be ob- 
served more sacredly, and tends more to procure us respect 
and friends than that which teaches us to keep our word rigid- 
ly, even in the most trifling instances, to be faithful to all 
our promises, and never to wander from the strait road of 
truth and veracity. You are entitled in no instance, and by 
no motive whatever, to say the contrary of what you think, 
although it would frequently be highly wrong and imprudent 
to disclose every thought of your heart 

4 No necessity, how imperious soever it be, can excuse an 
untruth ; no breach of veracity has ever been committed 
without having produced, sooner or later, painful consequen- 
ces ; whereas the man who is known to be a slave to his 



157 

word, and never to indulge himself with the commission of an 
untruth, gains confidence, a good name, and general regard. 

5 Be strict, punctual, regular, assiduous and diligent in your 
calling. Interest yourself for others, if you wish them to 
interest themselves for you. A person that is destitute of 
fellow-feeling, of a sense of friendship, benevolence and love, 
and lives merely for himself, will also be left to shift for 
himself when he wants the assistance of others. 

6 Above all things be always consistent. Form a certain 
plan of life, and do not swerve from it the breadth of a hair, 
although that plan should be rather singular. People will, 
perhaps, talk a short time of your singularity, but finally be 
silent, refrain from disturbing you any further, and, esteem 
you for your firmness. We in general, are always gainers 
by a regular perseverance and a wise firmness. 

7 Above all things strive to have always a good conscience. 
Avoid most studiously to give your heart the least occasion 
to reproach you on account of the object of your actions, and 
of the means which you employ to attain it. Pursue never 
crooked ways, and you may firmly rely upon good consequen- 
ces, the assistance of God and of good men in time of need. 

8 Although you should be thwarted for some time by mis- 
fortune, yet the blissful consciousness of the goodness of your 
heart, and of the rectitude of your designs, will afford you 
uncommon strength and comfort. Attempt never to render 
a person ridiculous in company, how many defects soever he 
may have. 

9 If you are desirous to gain lasting respect; if you wish 
to offend no one ; to tire no person by your conversation ; I 
advise you not to season your discourse constantly with as- 
persions, ridicule, and backbiting, nor to use yourself to the 
contemptible custom of jeering. 

10 This may please now and then, particularly in the cir- 
cle of a certain class of people ; but a man that constantly 
labors to amuse the company at the expense of other people, 
or of truth, will certainly be shunned and despised at last, 
and he deserves it ; for a man of feeling and understanding 
will bear with the failings of others, as he must be sensible 
how much mischief sometimes a single expression of ridicule 
may produce, though no harm be meant. He also cannot but 
wish for more substantial and useful conversation, and loathe 
gibing nonsense. Yet we use ourselves but too easily to that 
miserable custom, in what are called the fashionable circles. 

11 I do however not mean to condemn all ridicule in gen- 

o 



158 

eral, and at all times, nor to deny that many follies and ab- 
surdities can be counteracted best, in less familiar circles 
by the lashes of fine, not too plain, nor too personal ridicule. 
Neither do I desire you to applaud every thing you see and 
hear, nor to excuse all faults;! rather must confess, that I al- 
ways suspect people that affect to cover all defects of others 
with the cloak of charity. 

12 They are generally hypocrites, who wish to bribe others 
by the honorable terms in which they speak of them, to for- 
get the injuries which they commit against those very per- 
sons: or they intend to prevail on us by such a conduct, to 
be equally indulgent to their own failings and defects. 

13 Be careful not to carry stories from one house to another, 
nor to relate familiar table talks, family discourses, and obser- 
vations which you have made on the domestic concerns and 
life of people with whom you frequently converse. Although 
you should not be a malicious tale-bearer, yet such an offi- 
cious garrulity would create mistrust, and might occasion a 
great deal of animosity and discord. 

14 Whenever you speak of bodily, mental, moral, or other 
defects, or relate anecdotes that place certain principles in a 
ridiculous light, or reflect some blame upon certain ranks in 
life; then be cautious to ascertain first, that no one is present 
who could be offended by it, or take that censure or ridicule 
as a reflection upon himself, or his relations and friends. 
Ridicule the person, shape and features of no one; for it is not 
in the power of any mortal to alter them. 

SECTION II. 
On the conversation with ourselves. 

1 Take care of the health of your mind as well as that of 
your body ; but spoil neither the one nor the other by too 
much tenderness. The man that endangers his constitution 
by too much labor or excess, squanders away a treasure which 
frequently is alone sufficient to raise him above men and fate, 
and for the loss of which the wealth of all the world cannot 
compensate. 

2 But he that dreads every breeze of air, and is fearful to 
exert and exercise his limbs, lives a nerveless life of constant 
anxiety, and attempts in vain to put the rusty springs in 
motion when he has occasion to exert his natural powers. 

3 A man that constantly exposes his mind to the tempests 
of passion, or incessantly crowds the sails of his spirit, either 
runs aground or must return with his leaky vessel into port, 



159 

when the best season for making new discoveries sets in. 
But he that suffers the faculties of his understanding and 
memory constantly to sleep, or shudders at every little strug- 
gle or at any sort of painful exertion, enjoys not only very 
little of the sweets of life, but is also totally lost as soon as 
energy, courage and resolution are required. 

4 Take care, therefore, not to torment yourself by imagi- 
nary sufferings of the body or the mind ; do not give way to 
every adverse incident or corporeal affliction! Take courage 
and be resolute ! All the storms of adversity are transient; 
all difficulties can be overcome by firmness of mind; and the 
remembrance of every loss can be exploded from the memory, 
if we bend our attention upon some other object. 

5 Have a proper regard for yourself, if you wish to be 
esteemed by others. Act well and properly, rather to pre- 
serve your regard for yourself than to please others. Pre- 
serve a proper sense of your internal dignity. Never lose 
your reliance upon yourself, and upon the consciousness of 
your value in the eyes of your Creator; and although you 
are sensible not to be as wise and capable as others, yet do 
not despair; let not your zeal slacken, nor be wanting in 
probity of heart ! 

6 Have confidence in yourself and trust to Providence! 
There exists a greatness which is independent of men, fate, 
and the applause of the world ; it consists in the internal 
consciousness of our merit and rectitude, and our sense of it 
grows stronger, the less it is taken notice of. 

7 Be an agreeable companion to yourself: that is, never 
be entirely unoccupied, nor confide entirely in the store of 
knowledge which you have treasured up in your mind; but 
collect new ideas from books and men. 

8 Our own society does, however, never grow more te- 
dious and distressing to ourselves than when w r e have painful 
accounts to settle with our heart and conscience. If you wish 
to convince yourself of the truth of this assertion, you need 
but to observe the difference of your disposition. 

9 How much dissatisfied with ourselves, how absent, and 
how burdensome to ourselves, are we after a train of hours 
which we have trifled away or spent in doing wrong, and how 
serene, how happy to reflect upon our conduct, and to give 
audience to our ideas at the close of a well spent day! 



160 



SECTION III. 
On the conversation with people of different tempers and 
dispositions. 

1 Amongst all adventurers, gamblers by profession are the 
most contemptible and prejudicial class. On speaking of them, 
I beg leave to say a few words on gaming in general. 

2 No passion can lead to such extremities, nor involve 
man in such a complicated train of crimes and vices, and 
ruin whole families, so completely, as the baneful rage for 
gambling. It produces and nourishes all imaginable disgrace- 
ful sensations ; it is the most fertile nursery of covetousness, 
envy, rage, malice, dissimulation, falsehood, and foolish re- 
liance on blind fortune j* it frequently leads to fraud, quarrels, 
murder, forgery, meanness and despair ; and robs us, in the 
most unpardonable manner, of the greatest and most irre- 
coverable treasure — Time. 

3 Drunkards, voluptuaries, and all votaries of vice in 
general, you ought to shun, and if possible, to avoid their so- 
ciety ; yet if you should not always be able to do it, you 
cannot be too careful to watch over your innocence lest it 
should be infected by their example. 

4 This, however, is not sufficient ; it is also your duty not 
to indulge them in their excesses, how pleasing soever the 
shape may be in which they appear, but to show, as far as 
prudence permits, that you have an unconquerable aversion 
against them, and to be particularly careful never to join in 
smutty discourses. 

5 We see frequently that elegant rakes are uncommonly 
well received in the fashionable circles as they are called ; 
and but too often experience in many societies, particularly 

* The same pernicious consequences are liable to occur more or less, 
from the toleration of lotteries, horse-racing-, and every description of 
wagering", or betting ; which, it is to be hoped, will not, much longer, be 
encouraged and promoted by gentlemen of honor and wealth, who, in 
all other respects, sustain the reputation of irreproachable morals, patri- 
otism and beneficence. These fashionable modes of gambling may be 
amusing to those who have an abundance of money and leisure ; but 
there are two insuperable objections to their indulgence in them. First, 
every parent incurs a moral obligation of fidelity and prudence in the 
management of the property, which, though in his possession and control, 
his family and descendants have a just claim to a participation in, during 
his life, and the possession of, after his decease. Second, public games pro- 
mote dissipation and idleness among all classes who attend them. J. T, 



161 

^in such as consist entirely of males, that the conversation turns 
upon obscene ambiguities, which inflame the imagination of 
young people, and spread farther the corruption of morals. 

6 An honest man ought not to contribute the least thing in 
the world to this general corruption of morals ; he rather is 
bound to display his aversion to it in the strongest manner, 
without shewing any respect of persons ; and if he cannot 
correct people who walk in the path of vice by amicable ad- 
monitions, and by directing their activity to nobler objects, 
at least to convince them that he values decency and virtue, 
and that innocence must be respected in his presence. 

7 People who believe without any sufficient ground in 
certain doctrines and obligations, or in supernatural causes, 
agencies and apparitions, who for instance believe that God 
is an irascible and revengeful being, that those who are here- 
tics, in their opinion, ought to be deprived of all civil privi- 
leges, that future events can be foretold from omens and 
signs, that ghosts and superior beings can appear to men, &c. 
and who regard these objects of their faith as highly sacred 
and inviolable are called superstitious. 

S It is a certain criterion of superstition to believe too 
much, i. e. more than sound reason warrants. People who 
are given to superstition do not therefore listen to the voice 
of reason, but are deaf to sober arguments, and believe the 
most contradictory tenets. They never give up an opinion 
which they have once adopted, how absurd and incompre- 
hensible soever it may be, and tlte firmness of their faith is 
founded merely on habit. 

9 They have heard for instance a certain tenet asserted in 
their youth, it was recommended to them as a religious truth, 
and they have believed in it for many years; or something 
was inculcated into their mind as an invariable duty and ob- 
ligation ; or they were taught to believe that certain invisi- 
ble powers produce certain effects ; and now they continue 
to adhere to that opinion, because they have accustomed them- 
selves so much to believe it, that the contrary of it appears 
to them a daring violation of truth, which they are bound to 
abhor or to hate : and as reason opposes to their belief in- 
controvertible doubts, their commodiousness leads them to 
think that the voice of reason ought not to be listened to in 
matters of faith. 

10 Superstition undoubtedly is a source of numerous 
evils, and productive of great misery ; and it is extremely 
painful and distressing for every individual to be connected 

2 



162 

with its votaries : for the superstitious abhors every one that 
is of a different opinion. 

11 And what motive can a person have to suspect the 
truth of a doctrine of which he is as firmly convinced, as he is 
of the reality of his existence ? Is it not natural that a person 
who is to examine a doctrine which he believes, should first 
think it possible that it may be erroneous ? But if he think 
it impossible he cannot be reasonably expected to examine it. 

12 From this it appears, that the superstition of many 
people is very excusable, and that those who are infected 
with it have a just claim to our forbearance. It would there- 
fore be as unjust and inhumane to hate a man for his super- 
stition, as it would be to hate another because he is infected 
with some constitutional disease. The superstitious is there- 
fore justly entitled to compassion, and we ought to tolerate 
him with fraternal love. 



SECTION IV. 
On the conversation with people of a different age. 

1 Many sensations, which nature has impressed on the 
soul, aref reasoned away in our enlightened age, which is so 
carefully cleared of all the rubbish of antiquated prejudices. 
One of these prejudices is the sense of regard for hoary age. 
Our youth ripen sooner, grow sooner wise and learned than 
those of former times did. 

2 They repair by diligent reading, particularly of maga- 
zines, pamphlets and novels, their want of experience and 
study. This renders them so intelligent as to be able to de- 
cide upon subjects which our forefathers thought could only 
be clearly comprehended after a close and studious application 
of many years. 

3 Thence arises that noble self-sufficiency and confidence 
which inferior geniuses mistake for impudence and arrogance, 
that consciousness of internal worth with which the beardless 
boys of our age look down upon old men, and decry every 
thing that happens to come in their way. 

4 The utmost that a man of riper years may expect now- 
adays, from his children and grand-children is, kind indul- 
gence, chastening censure, being tutored by them and pitied, 
because he is so unfortunate as not to have been born in our 
happy age, in which wisdom rains from heaven, unsown and 
uncultivated, like manrot in the desert. 

5 There are many things in this world which can be learnt 
fjaly by experience; there are sciences which absolutely 



163 

require close and long study, reiterated reflection and medi- 
tation, coolness of temper and mature judgment; and there- 
fore I think the most brilliant and acute genius, in most 
eases, ought to pay some attention and deference to an old 
man, whose inferiority of faculties, is compensated by age 
and experience. 

6 It must be acknowledged in general, that the store of 
experience which a man gathers in a long course of years, 
enables him to fix his ideas, to awaken from ideal dreams, to 
avoid being led pstray by a lively imagination, the warmth of 
blood and the irritability of nerves, and to behold the objects 
with which he is surrounded in their proper point of view. 

7 It is, besides, so noble and amiable, to render the latter 
days of the pilgrimage of life, in which cares and sorrows 
generally increase, and enjoyment takes its flight, as easy as 
possible to those that soon are to bid an eternal farewell to the 
treasures and gratifications of this w r orld, that I feel myself 
impelled to exclaim, with additional energy, to youth of 
every description — 

8 " Rise up before the hoary head, and honor the face of 
the old. Court the society of old and experienced people! 
Do not despise the counsel of cool reason, nor the advice of 
experience. Treat the hoary as you wish to be treated, when 
your hair shall be bleached by old age. Respect them, and 
do not desert them, when wild and thoughtless youths shun 
their company." 

9 As for the rest, it cannot be denied that there are many 
old fools, as there are also ivise young men who have eared 
already when others scarcely have begun to sow. 

10 The conversation with children is highly interesting 
to a sensible man. He beholds in them the book of nature in 
an uncorrupted edition. Children appear as they really are, 
and as they are not misled by systems, passions or learning, 
judge of many things better than grown persons; they re- 
ceive many impressions much sooner, and are not guided by 
so many prejudices as the latter. 

1 1 In short, if you wish to study men you must not neglect 
to mix with the society of children. However, the conver- 
sation with them requires considerations which are not neces- 
sary in the society of people of maturer years. 

12 It is a sacred duty to give them no offence whatever, 
to abstain in their company from all wanton discourses and 
actions, and to display in their presence benevolence, faith, 
sincerity, decency and every other virtue ; in short, to con* 



■ 

164 

tribute as much as possible to their improvement; for their 
ductile and uncorrupted mind is as ready to receive good im- 
pressions, as it is open to the seeds of vice, and I may safely 
maintain that the degeneracy of mankind is greatly owing to 
the imprudence and inconsideration with which people of a 
maturer age deport themselves in the presence of children. 

SECTION V. 
On the conversation between parents and children. 

1 It is not uncommon in our days to see .children neglect 
their parents, or even treat them ill. The principal ties of 
human society grow laxer every day ; young men think that 
their fathers are not wise, entertaining and enlightened 
enough, and girls yawn in the company of their hoary mother, 
not reflecting how many tedious hours their parent spent at 
their cradle in attending and nursing them when they were 
stretched on a sick bed, or in performing the most disagreea- 
ble and offensive labors, to render them comfortable and to 
ease their pains, ami that she denied herself many pleasures, 
to take care of the little helpless being, who without her ten- 
der attendance, perhaps, would have perished. 

2 Children forget but too often how many cheerful hours 
they have imbittered to their parents by their stunning 
clamor; how many sleepless nights they have caused to their 
careful father, who exerted himself to the utmost of his abil- 
ities to provide for his family, and was obliged to deny him- 
self many comforts for their benefit. Well disposed minds, 
however, will never be so totally devoid of all sense of grati- 
tude as to be in want of my advice, and for mean and unfeel- 
ing souls I do not write. 

3 It is only necessary to observe, that if children really 
should have reason to be ashamed of the weakness or the 
vices of their parents, they will do much better to conceal 
their defects, as much as possible, than to neglect paying 
them that external regard whtch they owe them in many 
respects. The blessings of Heaven, and the approbation of 
all good men, are the certain rewards of the attention which 
sons and daughters pay to the comfort and happiness of their 
parents. 

4 It is a great misfortune to a child to be tempted by the 
discord in which his parents live, or by other causes, to take 
the part of one against the other. Prudent parents, however, 
will carefully avoid involving their children in such alterca- 
tions; and on such occasions good children will behave with 






i«5 
that circumspection and tenderness which probity and pru- 
dence require. 

SECTION VI. 
On conversation between masters and servants. 

1 It is lamentable enough that the greater part of mankind 
is forced by weakness, poverty, tyranny and other causes, to 
be subservient to the smaller number, and that the honest 
man frequently must obey the nod of the villain. What, there- 
fore, can be more just than that those whom Providence has 
entrusted with the power to sweeten the life of their fellow 
men, and to render its burdens easier, should make the best 
use of that fortunate situation ? 

2 It is, however, also true, that the majority seem to have 
been born to be dependent on others for guardianship and 
employment, and noble and truly magnanimous sentiments 
to be the inheritance of a small number only. But let us con- 
sider that the ground of this truth is founded rather on the 
defective education which the rising generation generally 
receive than on their natural disposition. 

3 Luxury, and its concomitant train, the despoilers of 
every age in which they are fostered, create an enormous 
number of wants, which render the majority of mankind 
dependant on a few. The insatiable thirst for gain and grat- 
ification produces mean passions, and forces us to beg, as it 
were, for those things which we imagine to be necessary for 
our existence; whereas temperance and moderation are the 
source of all virtues, and the precursors of true happiness. 

4 Although most people should be callous against more 
refined sentiments, yet are they not all ungrateful towards 
those that treat them with generosity, nor are they entirely 
blind to all intrinsic worth. 

5 A benevolent, serious, firm, and consistent conduct, 
which must not be confounded with stiff and overbearing so- 
lemnity ; good and prompt payment, which is proportionate 
to the importance of their services; rigorous punctuality in 
enforcing the regularity to which they have bound themselves; 
kindness and affection, when they make a modest and rea- 
sonable request; moderation in the exercise of our authority. 

6 A just regard to their abilities in the distribution of labor; 
a proper allowance of time for innocent recreations, and the 
improvement of their abilities ; attention to their wants ; 
rigorous injunction of cleanliness in their dress and proprie- 
ty in their conduct; readiness to sacrifice our own interest* 



166 

when we can contribute to the improvement of their situa 
tion ; paternal care for their health and morals; these are the 
only means of obtaining good and faithful servants, and of " 
insuring their affection. 

7 A father of a family has a just right to demand of his 
servants to perform all their duties with care -and fidelity ; 
but he ought never to suffer himself to be impelled by the 
fervor of passion to vent his indignation at his domestics by 
swearing at them, calling them names, or even striking them. 
A generous mind will never demean itself so low as to ill- 
treat those that have not the power to defend themselves. 

8 All those that serve, are bound to execute the duties they 
have engaged to perform with the greatest and most strict 
fidelity ; I would consequently advise their doing too much 
rather than too little, promoting the interest of their masters 
as diligently as their own, acting always with such candor, 
and being so regular and exact in the execution of their task, 
as to be enabled, at all times, to give a cheerful and satisfac- 
tory account of their conduct to their employers ; never to 
make an improper use of the confidence of their master; not 
to disclose the errors and defects of those whose bread they 
eat, nor to suffer themselves to be tempted by their passions 
to violate the respect which they owe those to whom Provi- 
dence has subjected them. 

SECTION VII. 
On the relations between benefactors and the objects of 
their kindness, as well as between instructors and pupils y 
creditors and debtors. 

1 Gratitude is a sacred duty ; therefore honor the man 
who has been kind to you. Thank him, not only in terms 
which express the warmth of your gratitude, but avail your- 
self also of every opportunity to serve and to be useful to 
him in return. 

2 The manner in which we dispense benefactions is fre- 
quently worth more than the action itself. It can enhance 
the value of every gift, as, on the other hand, it can also de- 
prive it of all merit. 

3 Do not repel the distressed from your door ! When you 
are requested by any person to give advice or assistance, you 
ought to listen kindly, attentively, and with fellow-feeling to 
his tale. Let him speak without being interrupted ; and if 
you cannot comply with his request, inform him frankly and 
without bitterness, of the cause which prevents you from re- 



167 

alizing his expectation. Take great care to avoid all ambig- 
uous subterfuges and deceitful promises ! 

4 No benefaction is superior to that of instructing and cul- 
tivating the mind of others. Every person who has contrib- 
uted any thing towards making us wiser, better and happier, 
lias the strongest claim to our everlasting and warmest grati- 
tude. Although he should not have exerted himself to the 
best of his abilities, yet we ought not to be ungrateful for the 
little improvement which we owe to him. 

5 People who have devoted themselves zealously to the 
important occupation of educating the rising generation, gen- 
erally deserve being treated with peculiar regard. To form 
and cultivate the mind of man is indeed a most difficult and 
arduous task, the accomplishment of which cannot be reward- 
ed with money. 

6 The schoolmaster of even the most insignificant village, 
who executes the duties of his calling with faithful diligence, 
is unquestionably one of the most useful and important per- 
sons in the state ; and as his income generally is scanty 
enough, it is but just we should endeavor to sweeten the la- 
borious life of such a useful member of society, by treating 
him at least with due respect. 

7 Humanity and prudence require we should be civil, just 
and kind to our debtors. It is a very reprehensible principle 
to think that a person who owes us money, has thereby be- 
come our slave, that he must take up with all sorts of humili- 
ation, that he is not at liberty to decline complying with any 
demand which we may think proper to make, and, in general, 
that the pecuniary assistance we afford to our fellow creatures 
can authorize us, at any time, to look contemptuously down 
upon them, and to treat them as our inferiors. 

8 Pay your creditors punctually, and be faithful to your 
promises ; confound not the honest man who lends on mod- 
erate interest to gain a livelihood by it, with the extorting 
usurer, and you will always find people who are ready to 
assist you in pecuniary matters. 

SECTION VIII. 
On our conduct towards others in various and peculiar 

situations and relations. 
1 It is not always in our power to render ourselves belov- 
ed, but it depends at all times on ourselves not to be despised. 
General applause and praise are not necessary to render us 
happy. Even the knave cannot help respecting a really wise 



168 

and virtuous man, and two or three sincere friends are suffi- 
cient to cheer our path through life. 

2 People who groan under the heavy pressure of adverse 
fate, who are persecuted by the malice of men, -reduced to 
poverty, neglected, or have strayed from the path of truth 
and virtue, have a just claim to our compassion, and ought 
to be treated with kind forbearance and humanity. 

3 Assist the poor, if Providence have granted you the 
power to afford him relief in his distress. Send not the pe- 
nurious from your door while you can give him a small gift 
without being unjust to your family. Dispense your charity 
with a cheerful heart and with a good grace. Do not inquire 
whether the man whom you can relieve, has been the cause 
of his own misfortunes. Who would be found entirely in- 
nocent of the sufferings under which he groans, were we al- 
ways to inquire minutely after their causes ? 

4 Shun not the scenes of human misery, nor flee from the 
abode of distress and poverty ; for if we desire to be capa- 
ble of having compassion for the sufferings of an unfortunate 
brother, we must be acquainted with the various scenes of 
misery which this world exhibits. 

5 Where humble poverty groans and dares not to step forth 
from its gloomy retirement to implore assistance; where ad- 
verse fate persecutes the diligent man who has seen better 
days ; where a. virtuous and numerous family strive in vain 
to procure, by the most indefatigable diligence, and the daily 
labor of their hands, as much as is sufficient to protect them 
against hunger, nakedness, and disease ; where, upon the 
hard couch, bashful tears run down the pallid cheek ! thith- 
er, my charitable and humane readers, bend your steps. 
There you have the noblest opportunity of laying out your 
money, the superfluity which Providence has intrusted to 
you, and to gain that interest which no bank in the world 
can give you. 

6 Of all the unfortunate sufferers whom this vain world 
contains, none are more to be pitied than such as have involv- 
ed themselves in a long train of guilty actions by a single 
wrong step, suppressed all sense for virtue, acquired a bane- 
ful habitude in doing wrong, lost all confidence in God and 
men, and all courage to return again to the path of virtue, or 
are, at least, on the point of sinking so low. 

*7 They have the strongest claim upon our compassion, be- 
cause they are deprived of the only consolation, that can sup- 
port us in the greatest misfortunes, namely, of the conscious 



169 
ness of not having wantonly brought upon themselves the 
evils under which they groan. 

8 Nothing, moreover, is so apt to render a man mean as 
public contempt, and the marks of growing mistrust for his 
amendment. Let us finally believe, for the honor of man- 
kind, that no person can sink so low, or be corrupted so com- 
pletely, as to render it impossible for us to save him by a 
judicious and zealous application of proper means. 

9 An honest, industrious, and skilful tradesman and me- 
chanic, is one of the most useful persons in the state, and the 
little deference which we pay to that class of people is very 
disgraceful to our moral character and understanding. What 
preference has an idle courtier, or an overgrown merchant, 
to an honest citizen who gains his bread in a lawful manner 
by the work of his hands ? 

10 This class of people work to satisfy our principal and 
most natural wants ; if it were not for their assistance, we 
should be obliged to prepare all the necessaries of life with 
our own hand ; therefore, if a tradesman or a mechanic (as 
frequently is the case) raise himself above the rest by his in- 
genuity, and shows that he spares no labor to improve his 
art, he has an additional claim to* our regard. 

Ill must also observe, that we frequently meet amongst 
this class of people with men of the brightest understanding, 
who are less given to prejudices than many of a superior rank, 
who have perverted their sound reason by study and slavish 
devotion to systems. Therefore honor a worthy and diligent 
tradesman and mechanic, and treat him with civility, 



SECTION IX. 

Principal causes of the want of domestic pleasures. 

1 Amongst all the numerous sources of human happiness, 
domestic life undoubtedly is the richest and most productive; 
but to which unhappily too many of the higher and middling 
classes rarely resort. This source of pleasure and happiness 
is accessible at all times to every man; its use is not confined 
to time, and the enjoyment of it requires not the least labori- 
ous preparations. 

2 The more pleasures the wise draw from this source, the 
richer and more copious it grows; the more frequently he re- 
sorts to it, the more he will relish the blessings which it af- 
fords. If we really wish to enjoy domestic pleasure and 
.happiness, mutual love and regard must be the foundation ; 



170 

and while we neglect to preserve and strengthen these ties, 
domestic life must lose its sweetest charms. 

3 Want of mutual concern is one of the most prominent 
features of the absence of domestic pleasure and happiness. 
It is impossible we should be capable of enjoying domestic 
happiness, while we do not take the liveliest interest in ev- 
ery concern of our consort. Want of taste for innocent and 
simple pleasures contributes likewise very much to destroy 
domestic and social happiness, and to render our home irk- 
some to us. 

4 Married people who must see each other every day, and 
therefore have opportunities enough to get acquainted with 
each other's faults and humors, and sufFer many inconveni- 
ences even from the most trifling of them, cannot be too cir- 
cumspect in their conduct; and it is highly important for them 
to find out means of preventing their society from being 
troublesome and tedious to one another, and to guard against 
mutual indifference, coldness and aversion. 

5 Dissimulation is one of the worst expedients that can be 
adopted for that purpose; but nothing is more efficacious than 
a certain regard for our own person, and an unremitted care 
to avoid every thing that can produce bad impressions. I 
would therefore advise married people carefully to cultivate 
mutual civility, which is the true spirit and characteristic of 
conjugal familiarity, and at all times distinguishes a man of 
good breeding. Discord between married people has always 
a bad influence on the education of their children. Economy 
is one of the first requisites of conjugal happiness. 

6 Want of materials for conversations and enjoyment is a 
no less common cause of the want of domestic happiness and 
pleasure. Conversation, particularly with a smaller circle of 
friends) requires we should be in possession of various mate- 
rials to keep it alive, that its sources may not be dried up 
and make room for tediousness and satiety; and that our en- 
joyment should be multiplied and refined by noble feelings, 
if we wish to preserve it from degenerating into disgust. 

7 Those that bring an empty head and a cold heart into 
social life, and are capable only of supporting a conversation 
on the most hackneyed subjects, or being affected by violent 
sensual impressions, cannot indeed expect to derive much 
pleasure and happiness from it. Pleasures which are merely- 
sensual are soon exhausted, as well as the little incidents of 
the day. 

8 But when those in near connexion possess an accom- 



171 

plished understanding, and a well disposed heart; when they 
have a decided taste for every thing which is noble and good; 
when they have the capacity, and a sincere wish to instruct 
and to be instructed; when the joint reading of a good and 
instructive book serves them instead of splendid assemblies; 
when they mutually strive after wisdom, virtue and higher 
perfection ; when they unite for the common enjoyment of 
the pleasures of religion and rational devotion, and take the 
most lively interest in every thing that concerns mankind 
and their mutual peace; then it is impossible the sources of 
domestic pleasures and happiness should ever be exhausted! 

9 How necessary it therefore is for^ every one panting 
after domestic bliss, that he should never cease to cultivate 
his mind and heart ; and how natural it is that our modern 
method of educating our children should render them totally 
unfit for enjoying the purest pleasures which this sublunary 
world can afford ! 

10 Is it not natural that our social circles afford us so little 
real pleasure, while the majority of our young men possess 
no other knowledge but what they have acquired in taverns^ 
play houses, &c. or gathered from novels and newspapers, 

SECTION X. 
On candor and tolerance in conversation. 

1 Want of candor and tolerance in conversation is one of 
the most common and baneful enemies of social and domes- 
tic pleasure. 

2 All our notions are produced and shaped by sensual per- 
ceptions, by instruction, education, reading, conversation, 
meditation, and the conclusions drawn therefrom. As for 
the notions produced by sensual perceptions, it is obvious to 
the most common understanding, that if some object affects 
the sensual organs, as the eye, for instance, we cannot avoid 
judging of it conformably to the perceptions it produces 
through that medium upon the mind. 

3 We must see what we do see. We must think an ob- 
ject to be green, if it appear in that color to our eyes, al- 
though to every other person it should seem to be blue. 
Neither ought we to condemn any one for the notions he 
owes to his education, instruction, reading, and conversation 
with others. It is not his fault that he was placed by Provi- 
dence in the situation in which he is, and that he received 
no other ideas but such as naturally resulted from it. 

4 But what confusion, what disorder could be occasioned 



172 

hy the free exercise of the liberty of speech ? It neither can 
be injurious to sound religion, nor to a well regulated gov- 
ernment, nor to the essential principles of morality. Sound 
religion needs not to fear the light. The more freely its 
principles are discussed, the more amiable will it appear to an 
impartial examiner. 

5 Doubts may indeed be raised against some of its tenets, 
but these very doubts will serve as a new spur to more minute 
inquiry which ultimately will do it more good than harm. 
Truth always eventually conquers, and error only cannot 
stand the test of free examination. 

6 All acrimony, passionate heat, rudeness of language, 
ridicule and hatred which we display towards those that dif- 
fer with us in opinion about religious, moral, philosophical, 
or political subjects, is therefore unbecoming a man of honor, 
a glaring infringement of the general rights of men, and dis- 
graceful to a rational being. 

7 If the ideas they advance be really and essentially erro- 
neous, violent and passionate declamations against them will 
never contribute any thing towards convincing them of their 
error, but will rather lead them to think that we are sensible 
of their superiority and our own weakness, and wish to 
silence, because we are incapable of refuting them. 

8 Such conduct, of course, will give them just reason to 
complain, that we use unfair weapons to combat them, ren- 
der us suspected of arrogance and tyrannical sentiments, and 
provoke hatred and contempt Tolerate the erring without 
confirming them in their errors. 



173 

PART SIXTH. 

SELECTIONS FROM FRANKLIN'S WORKS. 



Sage Franklin next arose with cheerful mien, 
And smiPd unruffled o'er the solemn scene ;* 
His locks of age a various wreath embraced, 
Palm of all arts that e'er a mortal grac'd ; 
Beneath him lay the sceptre kings had borne, 
And the tame thunder from the tempest torn. 

Barlow's Columbiad. 

CHAPTER 1. 

SELECTIONS FROM THE FIRST PART OF THE LIFE OF DR. 
FRANKLIN, ADDRESSED TO HIS SON WILLIAM FRANKLIN> 
ESQ. DATED 1771. 

SECTION L 
His early diligence in reading and improving his mind, $c. 

1 Dear Son — I have ever had a pleasure in obtaining any 
little anecdotes of my ancestors. You may remember the 
inquiries I made among the remains of my relations, when 
you were with me in England. Imagining it may be equal- 
ly agreeable to you to learn the circumstances of my life, 
and expecting a few weeks uninterrupted leisure, I sit down 
to write them. Besides, there are some other inducements 
to excite me to this undertaking. 

2 From the bosom of poverty and obscurity, in which I 
drew my first breath and spent my earliest years, I have 
raised myself ft* a state of opulence, and to some degree of 
celebrity in the world. A constant good fortune has attend- 
ed me through every period of life to my present advanced 
age ; and my descendants may be desirous of learning what 
were the means of which I made use, and which, thanks to 
the assisting hand of Providence, have proved so eminently 
successful. They may also, should they ever be placed in a 
similar situation, derive some advantage from my narrative. 

3 This good fortune, when I reflect on it, which is fre- 
quently the case, has induced me sometimes to say, that if it 
were left to my choice I should have no objection to go over 

* Alluding to the American Revolution* 
P2 



174 

the same career of life again, requesting only the privilege 
authors have of correcting in a second edition the errors of 
the first. 

4 I was horn in Boston, in New England. My brothers 
were all put apprentices to different trades. With respect 
to myself, I was sent, at the age of eight years, to a grammar 
school. My father destined me for the church, and already 
regarded me as the chaplain of the family. 

5 The promptitude with which, from my infancy, I had 
learned to read, for I do not remember to have been ever 
without this acquirement, and the encouragements of his 
friends, who assured him that I should one day certainly be- 
come a man of letters, confirmed him in this design. My 
uncle Benjamin approved also of the scheme, and promised to 
give me all his volumes of sermons, written in the short hand 
of his invention, if I would take the pains to learn it. 

6 I remained, however, scarcely a year at the grammar 
school, although, in this short interval, I had risen from the 
middle to the head of my class, from thence to the class im- 
mediately above, and was to pass, at the end of the year, to 
the one next in order. 

7 But my father, burdened with a numerous family, found 
that he was incapable, without subjecting himself to difficul- 
ties, of providing for the expense of a collegiate education ; 
and considering, besides, as I heard him say to his friends, 
that persons so educated were often poorly provided for, he 
renounced his first intentions, took me from the grammar 
school, and sent me to a school for writing and arithmetic, 
kept by a Mr. George Brownwel, who was a skilful master, 
and succeeded very well in his profession by employing gen- 
tle means only, and such as were calculated to encourage his 
scholars. Under him I soon acquired an excellent hand; but 
I failed in arithmetic, and made therein no sort of progress. 

8 At ten years of age I was called home to assist my father 
in his occupation, which was that of soapboiler and tallow- 
chandler ; a business to which he had served no apprentice- 
ship, but which he embraced on his arrival in New England, 
because he found his own, that of a dyer, in too little request 
to enable him to maintain his family. I was accordingly em- 
ployed in cutting the wicks, filling the moulds, taking care of 
the shop, carrying messages, &c. 

9 From my earliest years I had been passionately fond of 
reading, and I laid out in books all the little money I could 
procure. I w r as particularly pleased with accounts of voyages. 



175 

My first acquisition was Bunyan's collection in small separate 
volumes. These I afterwads sold in order to buy a histori- 
cal collection by R. Burton, which consisted of small, cheap 
volumes, amounting in all to about forty or fifty. My father's 
little library was principally made up of books of practical 
and polemical theology. I read the greatest part of them. 

10 I have since often regretted, that at a time when I had 
so great a thirst for knowledge, more eligible books had not 
fallen into my hands, as it was then a point decided that I 
should not be educated for the church. There was also 
among my father's books Plutarch's Lives, in which I read 
continually, and I still regard as advantageously employed 
the time I devoted to them. I found besides a work of De 
Foe's, entitled "An Essay on Projects," from which, perhaps, 
I derived impressions that have since influenced some of the 
principal events of my life. My inclination for books at last 
determined my father to make me a printer, though he had 
already a son in that profession. [He was accordingly bound 
as an apprentice to his brother James.] 

1 1 In a very short time I made great proficiency in this 
business, and became very serviceable to my brother. I had 
now an opportunity of procuring better books. The ac- 
quaintance I necessarily formed with booksellers' apprenti- 
ces, enabled me to borrow a volume now and then, which I 
never failed to return punctually, and w r ithout injury. 

12 How often has it happened to me to pass the greater 
part of the night in reading by my bed-side, when the book 
had been lent me in the evening, and was to be returned the 
next morning, lest it might be missed or wanted. 

13 At length, Mr. Matthew Adams, an ingenious trades- 
man, who had a handsome collection of books, and who fre- 
quented our printing-house, took notice of me. He invited 
me to see his library, and had the goodness to lend me any 
books I was desirous of reading. 

14 About this time I met with an odd volume of the Spec- 
tator. I had never before seen any of them. I bought it, 
read it over and over, and was much delighted with it. I 
thought the writing excellent, and wished if possible to imi- 
tate it. With that view, I took same of the papers, and 
making short hints of the sentiments in each sentence, laid 
them by a few days, and then without looking at the book, 
tried to complete the papers again, by expressing each hinted 
sentiment at length, and as fully as it had been expressed be- 
fore, in any suitable words that should occur to me. 



176 

15 Then I compared my Spectator with the original, dis- 
covered some of my faults, and corrected them. The time 
which I devoted to these exercises, and to reading, was the 
evening after my day's labor was finished, the morning be- 
fore it began, and Sundays w r hen I could escape attending 
divine service. While I lived with my father, he had insist- 
ed on my punctual attendance on public worship, and I still 
indeed considered it as a duty, but a duty which I thought I 
had no time to practise. 

1 6 When about sixteen years of age, a work of Tryon fell 
into my hands, in which he recommends vegetable diet I 
determined to observe it. My brother, being a bachelor, did 
not keep house, but boarded with his apprentices in a neigh- 
boring family. 

17 My refusing to eat animal food was found inconvenient, 
and I w T as often scolded for my singularity. I attended to 
the mode in which Tryon prepared some of his dishes, par- 
ticularly how to boil potatoes and rice, and make hasty pud- 
dings. I then said to my brother, that if he would allow me 
per week half what he paid for my board, I would undertake 
to maintain myself. The offer was instantly embraced, and I 
soon found that of what he gave me I was able to save half. 

18 This was a new fund for the purchase of books; and 
ether advantages resulted to me from the plan. When my 
brother and his workmen left the printing house to go to din- 
ner, I remained behind ; and despatching my frugal meal, 
which frequently consisted of a biscuit only, or a slice of 
bread and a bunch of raisins, or a bun from the pastry cook's, 
with a glass of water, I had the rest of the time till their 
return, for study; and my progress therein was proportioned 
to that clearness of ideas, and quickness of conception, which 
are the fruit of temperance in eating and drinking. 

19 It was about this period that, having one day been put 
to the blush for my ignorance in the art of calculation, which 
I had twice failed to learn while at school, I took Cocker's 
Treatise of Arithmetic, and went through it by myself with 
the utmost ease. 

20 While laboring to form and improve my style, I met 
with an English grammar, which I believe was Greenwood's, 
having at the end of it two little essays, on rhetoric and logic. 
In the latter I found a model of disputation after the manner 
of Socrates. Shortly after I procured Xenophon's work, 
entitled, Memorable Things of Socrates, in which are various 
examples of the same method. Charmed to a degree of ei> 



177 
thusiasm, with this mode of disputing, I adopted it, and re- 
nouncing blunt contradiction, and direct and positive argu- 
ment, I assumed the character of a humble questioner. 

21 This method I continued to employ for some years; 
but I afterwards abandoned it by degrees, retaining only the 
habit of expressing myself with modest diffidence, and never 
making use, when I advanced any proposition which might 
be controverted, of the words certainly, undoubtedly, or 
any others that might give the appearance of being obstinately 
attached to my opinion. 

22 This habit I believe has been of great advantage to me, 
when I have had occasion to inculcate my opinions, and per- 
suade men into measures that I have been from time to time 
engaged in promoting; and as the chief ends of conversation 
are to inform, or to be informed, to please or to persuade, 
I wish well meaning and sensible men would not lessen their 
power of doing good by a positive assuming manner that 
seldom fails to disgust, tends to create opposition, and to de- 
feat most of those purposes for which speech was given to us. 

23 In fact, if you wish to instruct others, a positive and 
dogmatical manner in advancing your sentiments, may occa- 
sion opposition, and prevent a candid attention. If you desire 
improvement from others, you should not at the same time 
express yourself fixed in your present opinions; modest and 
sensible men who do not love disputation, will leave yOU 
undisturbed in the possession of your errors. 

24 My brother considered himself as my master, and me 
as his apprentice, and accordingly expected the same services 
from me as he would from another, while I thought he de- 
graded me too much in some things he required of me, who, 
from a brother, required more indulgence. Our disputes 
were often brought before our father, and I fancy I was either 
generally in the right, or else a better pleader, for the judg- 
ment was generally in my favor. 

25 But my brother was passionate, and often had recourse 
to blows ; a circumstance which I took in very ill part. This 
severe and tyrannical treatment contributed, I believe, to 
imprint on my mind that aversion to arbitrary power, which 
during my whole life I have ever preserved. My appren- 
ticeship became insupportable to me, and I continually sighed 
for an opportunity of shortening it, which at length unex- 
pectedly offered. 






178 

SECTION II. 
Having left his brother, he goes to Philadelphia ; and 
afterwards to London. His temperance, industry and 
frugality, while employed as a journeyman printer in 
those cities. 

1 From this period I began to contract acquaintance with 
such young people of the town [Philadelphia] as were fond 
of reading, and spent my evenings with them agreeably, 
while at the same time, I gained money by my industry, 
and, thanks to my frugality, lived contented. 

2 My most intimate acquaintance at this time were Charles 
Osborne, Joseph Watson, and James Ralph ; young men 
who were all fond of reading. It was a custom with us to 
take a charming walk on Sundays, in the woods that border 
on the Schuylkill. Here we read together, and afterwards 
conversed on what we read. 

3 While I lodged in Little Britain, [being then in Lon- 
don] I formed acquaintance with a bookseller of the name of 
Wilcox, whose shop was next door to me. Circulating libra- 
ries were not then in use. He had an immense collection of 
books of all sorts. 

4 We agreed that, for a reasonable retribution, of which I 
have now forgotten the price, I should have free access to his 
library, and take what books I pleased, which I was to return 
when I had read them. I considered this agreement as a very 
great advantage, and I derived from it as much benefit as 
was in my power. 

5 I now began to think of laying by some money. The 
printing-house of Watts, near Lincoln's Inn-Fields, being a 
still more considerable one than that in which I worked, it 
was probable I might find it more advantageous to be em- 
ployed there. I offered myself, and was accepted ; and in this 
house I continued during the remainder of my stay in London. 

6 On my entrance I worked at first as a pressman; conceiv- 
ing that I had need of bodily exercise, to which I had been ac- 
customed in America, where the printers work alternately as 
compositors and at the press. I drank nothing but water. The 
other workmen, to the number of about fifty, were grea. 
drinkers of beer. 

7 I carried occasionally a large form of letters in each 
hand, up and down stairs, while the rest employed both 
hands to carry one. They were surprised to see, by this and 
many other examples, that the American Aquatic, [ Water- 



179 

American^ as they used to call me, was stronger than those 
who drank porter. 

8 The beer boy had sufficient employment during the whole 
day in serving that house alone. My fellow pressman drank 
every day a pint of beer before breakfast, a pint with bread 
and cheese for breakfast, one between breakfast and dinner, 
one at dinner, one again about six o'clock in the afternoon, 
and another after he had finished his day's work. This cus- 
tom appeared to me abominable; but he had need, he said, 
of all this beer, in order to acquire strength to work. 

9 I endeavored to convince him that bodily strength fur- 
nished by the beer, could only be in proportion to the solid 
part of the barley dissolved in the water of which the beer 
was composed; that there was a larger portion of flour in a 
penny loaf, and that, consequently, if he eat this loaf, and 
drank a pint of water with it, he would derive more strength 
from it than a pint of beer. 

10 This reasoning, however, did not prevent him from 
drinking his accustomed quantity of beer, and paying every 
Saturday night a score of four or five shillings a week for 
this vile beverage; an expense from which I was wholly ex- 
empt. Thus do these poor creatures continue all their lives 
in a state of voluntary wretchedness and poverty. 

11 My example prevailed with several of them to renounce 
their abominable practice of bread and cheese with beer; and 
they procured, like me, from a neighboring house, a good 
basin of warm gruel, in which was a small slice of butter, 
with toasted bread and nutmeg. This was a much better 
breakfast which did not cost more than a pint of beer, namely, 
three halfpence, and at the same time preserving the head 
clearer. 

12 Those who continued to gorge themselves with beer 
often lost their credit with the publican, from neglecting to 
pay their score. They had then recourse to me, to become 
security for them; their light, as they used to call it, being 
out. I attended at the pay table every Saturday evening, to 
take up the little sum of money which I had made myself 
answerable for ; and which sometimes amounted to nearly 
thirty shillings a week. 

13 This circumstance, added to my reputation of being a 
tolerable good gabber, or in other words, skilful in the art of 
burlesque, kept up my importance in the chapel. I had be- 
sides, recommended myself to the esteem of my master, by 
my assiduous application to business, never observing Saint 



ISO 

Monday. My extraordinary quickness in composing always 
procured me such work as was most urgent, and, which is 
commonly best paid; and thus my time passed away in a 
very pleasant manner. 

14 At Watt's printing house, I contracted an acquaintance 
with an ingenious man of the name of Wygate, who, having 
wealthy relations, had been better educated than most print- 
ers. He at length proposed to me travelling all over Europe 
together, supporting ourselves every where by working at 
our business. 

15 I was once inclined to it; but mentioning it to my good 
friend Mr. Denham, with whom I often spent an hour when I 
had leisure, he dissuaded me from it ; advising me to think 
only of returning to Pennsylvania, which he was about to do. 

16 1 must record one trait of this good man's character. 
He had formerly been in business at Bristol, but failed, in 
debt to a number of people, compounded with his creditors, 
and went to America: there, by close application to business 
as a merchant, he acquired a plentiful fortune in a few years, 

17 Returning to England in the ship with me, he invited 
his old creditors to an entertainment, at which he thanked 
them for the easy terms of compromise they had favored him 
with, and when they expected nothing but the treat, every 
man at the first remove found under his plate an order on a 
banker for the full amount of the unpaid balance, with interest. 

18 Thus I passed about eighteen months in London; most 

f>art of the time I worked hard at my business, and spent but 
ittle upon myself, except in books. I had improved my 
knowledge, however, though I had by no means improved 
my fortune: but I had made some very ingenious acquaint- 
ance, whose conversation was of great advantage to me; and 
I had read considerably. 

19 We sailed from Gravesend, on the 23d July, 1726. The 
most important part of my journal of the voyage, is the plan 
to be found in it, which I formed at sea for regulating the fu- 
ture conduct of my life. It is the more remarkable, as being 
formed when I was so young, and yet being pretty faithfully 
adhered to quite through to old age. [The Compiler has 
been much gratified in meeting with a sketch of the interest- 
ing plan here alluded to, in Delaplaine's Repository of the 
Lives of Distinguished Americans, which is as follows :] 

20 "During Franklin's voyage homewards from England 
to Philadelphia, he digested and committed to paper, the plan 
df life which, as he himself observes, he afterwards pursued;— 



181 

a rare instance of grave reflection and virtuous resolution at 
so early an age. In his Memoirs, he refers to this plan with 
evident complacency, but it is not contained in any edition 
of his works. 

21" The preamble and the heads of it were copied from the 
Autograph, in the year 1785> by Willfam Rawle, Esquire, of 
Philadelphia, and have been obligingly communicated to us 
by that distinguished friend of the philosopher. They are, 
in part, as follows : — 

22 l Those who write of the art of poetry teach us that if 
we would write what may be worth the reading, we ought 
always, before we begin, to form a regular plan and design of 
our piece : otherwise, we might be in danger of incongruity, 
I am apt to think it is the same as to life. 

23 " I have never fixed a regular design in life ; by which 
means it has been a confused variety of different scenes. I 
am now entering upon a new one: let me, therefore, make 
some resolutions, and form some scheme of action, that hence- 
forth, I may live in all respects like a rational creature. 

24 "I. It is necessary for me to be extremely frugal for 
some time, till I have paid what I owe. 

" II. To endeavor to speak truth in every instance ; to give 
nobody expectations that are not likely to be answered, but 
aim at sincerity in every word and action — the most amiable 
excellence in a rational being. 

25 " III. To apply myself industriously to whatever busi- 
ness I take in hand, and not divert my mind from my business 
by any foolish project of growing suddenly rich ; for indus- 
try and patience are the surest means of plenty. 

" IV. I resolve to speak ill of no man whatever* not even in 
a matter of truth ; but rather by some means excuse the 
faults I hear charged upon others, and upon proper occasions 
speak all the good I know of every body/ "&c. 



SECTION III. 
Franklin establishes a printing-house in Philadelphia; 
resolves on the inflexible practice of truth , probity , and 
sincerity; gains the reputation of industry and punc- 
tuality; founds a society for mental improvement, fyc. 
1 Before I relate the particulars of my entrance into busi- 
ness, it may be proper to inform you what was at that time 
the state of mv mind as to moral principles, that vou may see 
Q 












182 

the degree of influence they had upon the subsequent events 
of my life. 

2 In a word, I was at last convinced that truth, probity, 
and sincerity, in transactions between man and man, were of 
the utmost importance to the happiness of life; and I resolved 
from that moment, and wrote the resolution in my journal, 
to practise them as long as I lived. Thus, before I entered 
on my new career, I had imbibed solid principles, and a char- 
acter of probity. I knew their value; and I made a solemn 
engagement with myself never to depart from them. 

3 I ought to have related, that, during the autumn of the 
preceding year, I had united the majority of well-informed 
persons of my acquaintance into a club, which we called by 
the name of the Junto, and the object of which was to im- 
prove our understandings. We met every Friday evening. 

4 The regulations I drew up, obliged every member to 
propose in his turn, one or more questions upon some point 
of morality, politics, or philosophy, which were to be discuss- 
ed by the society; and to read, once in three months, an es- 
say of his own composition, on whatever subject he pleased. 

5 Our debates were under the direction of a president, and 
were to be dictated only by a sincere desire of truth ; the 
pleasure of disputing, and the vanity of triumph having no 
share in the business; and in order to prevent undue warmth, 
ev^ry expression which implied obstinate adherence to an 
opinion, and all direct contradiction, were prohibited, under 
small pecuniary penalties. 

6 This was the best school of politics and philosophy that 
then existed in the province; for our questions, which were 
read a week previous to their discussion, induced us to peruse 
attentively such books as were jprritten upon the subjects 
proposed, that we might be able to speak upon them more 
pertinently. 

7 We thus acquired the habit of conversing more agreea- 
bly; every subject being discussed conformably to our regu- 
lations, and in a manner to prevent mutual disgust, To this 
circumstance may be attributed the long duration of the club; 
which I shall have frequent occasion to mention as I proceed. 

8 I began to pay by degrees the debt I had contracted ; 
and in order to insure my credit and character as a trades- 
man. I took care not only to be really industrious and frugal, 
but also to avoid every appearance of the contrary. I was 
plainly dressed, and never seen ia any place of public amuse- 
ment. 



1S3 

$ I never went a fishing or hunting : a book indeed enticed 
me sometimes from my work, but it was seldom, by stealth, 
and occasioned no scandal; and to show that I did not think 
myself above my profession, I conveyed home sometimes in 
a wheelbarrow the paper I purchased at the warehouses. 

10 I thus obtained the reputation of being an industrious 
young man, and very punctual in his payments. The mer- 
chants who imported articles of stationary, solicited my cus- 
tom; others offered to furnish me with books, and my little 
trade went on prosperously. 



CHAPTER 2. 



SELECTIONS FROM THE CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF 
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 

SECTION I. 

Letter from Mr, Abel James, with notes on my life, 
(Received in Paris.) 

1 " My dear and honored friend, — I have often been de- 
sirous of writing to thee/' &c. u Some time since there fell 
into my hands, to my great joy, about twenty-three sheets in 
thy own hand writing, containing an account of the parent- 
age and life of thyself, directed to thy son, ending in the year 
1730, with which there were notes, likewise in thy writing; 
a copy of which I enclose, in hopes it may be a means, if thou 
continued it up to a later period, that the first and latter part 
may be put together; and if it is not yet continued, I hope 
thee will not delay it. 

2 a Life is uncertain, as the preacher tells us; and what will 
the world say, if kind, humane, and benevolent Ben. Frank- 
lin should leave his friends and the world deprived of so 
pleasing and profitable a work : a work which would be use 
ful and entertaining not only to a few, but to millions. 

3 "The influence writings under that class have on the 
minds of youth, is very great, and has no where appeared to 
me so plain, as in our public friend's journals. It almost in- 
sensibly leads the youth into the resolution of endeavoring 
to become as good and eminent as the journalist. Should thine, 
for instance, when published, (and I think it could not fail of 
it,) lead the youth to equal the industry and temperance of 
thy early youth, what a blessing with that class would such a 
work be ! 

4 " I know of no character living, nor many of them put 






■ 184 

together, who has so. much in his power as thyself, to promote 
a greater spirit of industry and early attention to business, 
frugality, and temperance, with the American youth. Not 
that I think the work would have no other merit and use in 
the world; far from it;, but the first is of such vast importance 
that I know nothing that can equal it." 

5 Extracts of a Letter from Mr. Benjamin Vaughan. 
1 Your history is so remarkable, that if you do not give it, 
somebody else will certainly give it; and perhapsso as nearly 
to do as much harm, as your own management of the thing 
might do good. 

6 " But these, Sir, are small reasons, in my opinion, com- 
pared with the chance which your life would give for the 
terming of future great men ; and in conjunction with your 
Art of Virtue, (which you design to publish,) of improving 
the features of private character, and consequently of aiding 
all happiness, both public and domestic. 

7 " The two works I allude to, Sir, will give a noble rule 
md example of self-education. School and other education 
distantly proceed upon false principles, and show a clumsy 
apparatus pointed at a false mark; but your apparatus is sim- 
ple, and the mark a true one; and while parents and young 
persons are left destitute of other just means of estimating and 
becoming prepared for a reasonable course in life, your dis- 
covery, that the thing is in many a man's private power, will 
be invaluable I 

8 " Influence upon the private character, late in life, is not 
only an influence late in life, but a weak influence. It is in 
youth that we plant our chief habits and prejudices; it is in 
youth we take our party as to profession, pursuits, and mat- 
rimony. In youth, therefore, the turn is given; in youth 
the education even of the next generation is given; in youth; 
the private and public character is determined; and the term 
of life extending but from youth to age, life ought to begin 
well from youth; and more especially before we take our 
party as to our principal objects. 

9 "But your biography will not merely teach self-educa- 
tion, but the education of a wise man; and the wisest man will 
receive lights, and improve his progress, by seeing detailed 
the conduct of another wise man. And why are weaker men 
to be deprived of such helps, when we see our race has been 
blundering on in the dark, almost without a guide in this 
particular, from the farthest trace of time. 

10 " The little private incidents which, you will also have 



185 

to relate, will have considerable use, as we want above all 
things, rules of prudence inordinary affairs; and it will be 
curious to see how you have acted in these. It will be so far 
a sort of key to life, and explain many things that all men 
ought to have once explained to them, to give them a chance 
of becoming wise by foresight. 

11" Your account of yourself will show that you are 
ashamed of no origin; a thing the more important, as you 
prove how little necessary all origin is to happiness, virtue or 
greatness." " Another thing demonstrated, will be the pro- 
priety of every man's waiting for his time for appearing upon 
the stage of the world." 

12 "For the furtherance of human happiness, I have al- 
ways maintained that it is necessary to prove that man is not 
even at present a vicious and detestable animal; and still more 
to prove that good management may greatly amend him." 

13 "As I have not read any part of the life in question, 
but know only the character that lived it, I write somewhat 
at hazard. I am sure, however, that the life, and the treatise 
alluded to, (on the Jirt of Virtue^) will necessarily fulfil the 
chief of my expectations." 

SECTION II. 
Continuation, He establishes a public library in Philadel- 
phia. Luxury introduced in his family by his wife, 

1 At the time I established myself in Pennsylvania, there 
was not a good bookseller's shop in any of the colonies to the 
southward of Boston. In New- York and Philadelphia, the 
printers were indeed stationers, but they sold only paper, &c. 
almanacs, ballads, and a few common school-books. 

2 Those who loved reading were obliged to send for their 
books from England: the members of the Junto had each a 
few. I proposed that we should all of us bring our books to 
the club room; where they would not only be ready to con- 
sult in our conferences, but become a common benefit, each 
of us being at liberty to borrow such as he wished to read at 
home. Finding the advantage of this little collection, I pro- 
posed to render the benefit from the books more common, by 
commencing a public subscription library, 

3 I drew a sketch of the plan and rules that would be ne- 
cessary, and got a skilful conveyancer, Mr. Charles Brogden, 
to put the whole in form of articles of agreement to be sub- 
scribed. So few were the readers at that time in Philadel- 
phia, and the majority of us so poor, that I was not able, with 

Q2 



' I $6 

great industry, to find more than fifty persons, (mostly young 
tradesmen,) willing to pay down for the purpose, forty shil- 
lings each, and ten shillings per annum: with this little fund 
we began. 

4 The books were imported; the library was open one day 
in the week for lending them to subscribers, on their promis- 
sory notes to pay double the value if not duly returned. The 
institution soon manifested its utility, was imitated in other 
towns, and in other provinces. The libraries were augment- 
ed by donations; reading became fashionable; and our people 
having no public amusements to divert their attention from 
study, became better acquainted with books ; and in a few 
years were observed by strangers, to be better instructed, and 
more intelligent than people of the same rank generally are 
in other countries. 

5 The objections and reluctances I met with in soliciting 
the subscriptions, made me soon feel the impropriety of pre- 
senting oneself as the proposer of any useful project, that 
might be supposed to raise one's reputation in the smallest 
degree above that of one's neighbors, w r hen one has need of 
their assistance to accomplish that project. 

6 I therefore put myself as much as I could out of sight, 
and stated it as a scheme of a number of friends, who had 
requested of me to go about and propose it to such as they 
thought lovers of reading. In this way my affair went on 
more smoothly, and I ever after practised it on such occasions; 
and from my frequent successes can heartily recommend it. 

7 This library afforded me the means of improvement by 
constant study, for which I set apart an hour or two each day; 
and thus repaired in some degree the loss of the learned eau- 
cation my father once intended for me. Reading was the only 
amusement I allowed myself. I spent no time in taverns, 
games, or frolics of any kind; and my industry in my busi- 
ness continued as indefatigable as it was necessary. 

8 We have an English proverb that says, " He that would 
thrive must ask his wife." It was lucky for me that I had 
one as much disposed to industry and frugality as myself. 
She assisted me cheerfully in my business, folding and stitch- 
ing pamphlets, tending shop, purchasing old linen rags for 
the papermakers, &c. We kept no idle servants, our table 
was plain and simple, our furniture of the cheapest. 

9 For instance, my breakfast was for a long time bread 
and milk, (no tea) and I ate it out of a two penny earthen 
porriager, with a pewter spoon: but mark how luxury will 



137 
enter families, and make a progress in spite of principle ; 
being called one morning to breakfast, I found it in a china 
bowl, with a spoon of silver. 

10 They had been bought for me, without my knowledge, 
by my wife, and had cost her the enormous sum of three and 
twenty shillings ; for which she had no other excuse or apol 
ogy to make, but that she thought her husband deserved a 
silver spoon and china bowl as well as any of his neighbors.* 

SECTION III. 

His project of arriving at moral perfection: catalogue and 

illustrations of the moral virtues: art of virtue. 

1 It was about this time I conceived the bold and arduous pro- 
ject of arriving at moral perfection. I wished to live without 
committing any fault at any time, and to conquer all that either 
natural inclination, custom or company, might lead me into. 

2 As I knew, or thought I knew what was right and wrong, 
I did not see why I might not always do the one and avoid 
the other. But I soon found that I had undertaken a task of 
more difficulty than I had imagined; while my attention was 
taken up, and care employed in guarding against one fault, 1 
was often surprised by another; habit took the advantage ot 
inattention, inclination was sometimes too strong for reason. 

3 I concluded at length, that the mere speculative convic- 
tion, that it was our interest to be completely virtuous, was 
not sufficient to prevent our slipping ; and that the contrary 
habits must be broken, and good ones acquired and establish- 
ed, before we can have any dependence on a steady, uniform 
rectitude of conduct. For this purpose, therefore, I tried the 
following method : 

4 In the various enumerations of the moral virtues I had 
met with, in my reading, I found the catalogue more or less 
numerous, as different writers included more or fewer ideas 
under the same name. Temperance, for example, was by 
some confined to eating and drinking; while by others it was 
extended to mean the moderating every other pleasure, ap- 
petite, inclination, or passion, bodily or mental, even to our 
avarice and ambition. 

5 I proposed to myself, for the sake of clearness, to use 
rather more names, with fewer ideas annexed to each, than 

* This honest confession of Mrs. Franklin, discloses the principal 
cause of the slavery under which society suffers and struggles, from the 
rage of its members of all grades to imitate or excel each other in the 
display of external appearances. — comp. 



188 

a few names with more ideas; and I included under thirteen 
names of virtues, all that at that time occurred to me as 
necessary or desirable ; and annexed to each a short precept* 
which explained the extent I gave to its meaning. 

6 These names of virtues ', with their precepts, were: 

I. Temperance, : Eat not to dulness; drink not to elevation. 

II. Silence : Speak not but what may benefit others or 
yourself ; avoid trifling conversation. 

III. Order: Let all your things have their places: let each 
part of your business have its time. 

. IV. Resolution: Resolve to perform what you ought; per- 
form without fail what you resolve. 

7 V. Frugality : Make no expense but to do good to 
others or yourself: i. e. waste nothing. 

VI. Industry: Lose no time: be always employed in some- 
thing useful: cut off all unnecessary actions. 

VII. Sincerity: Use no hurtful deceit: think innocently 
.and justly: and, if you speak, speak accordingly. 

VIII. Justice: Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting 
the benefits that are your duty. 

8 IX. Moderation : Avoid extremes : forbear resenting 
injuries so much as you think they deserve. 

X. Cleanliness: Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, clothes, 
or habitation. 

XI. Tranquillity : Be not disturbed at trifles, nor at acci 
dents common or unavoidable. 

XII. Chastity. 

XIII. Humility: Imitate Jesus. 

9 My intention being to acquire the habitude of all these 
virtues, I judged it would be well not to distract my attention 
by attempting the whole at once, but to fix it on one of them 
at a time; and when I should be master of that, then to proceed 
to another ; and so on till I should have gone through the 
thirteen : and as the previous acquisition of some, might facil- 
itate the acquisition of others, I arranged them with that 
view as they stand above. 

10 Temperance first, as it tends to procure that coolness 
and clearness of head, which is so necessary where constant 
vigilance was to be kept up, and a guard maintained against 
the unremitting attraction of ancient habits, and the force of 
perpetual temptations. 

11 This being acquired and established, Silence would be 
more easy ; and my desire being to gain knowledge at the 
same time that I improved in virtue; and considering t 



189 
conversation it was obtained rather by the use of the ear 
than of the tongue, and therefore wishing to break a habit I 
was getting into, of prattling, punning) and jesting, (which 
only made me acceptable to trifling company,) I gave silence 
the second place. 

12 This and the next, Order, I expected would allow me 
more time to attend to my project and my studies. Resolu- 
tion once become habitual, would keep me firm in my en- 
deavors to obtain all the subsequent virtues. Frugality and 
Industry, relieving me from my remaining debt, and produ- 
cing affluence and independence, would make more easy the 
practice of Sincerity and Justice, &c. &c. 

13 Conceiving then, agreeably to the advice of Pythago- 
ras in his golden verses, daily examination would be neces- 
sary, I contrived the following method for conducting that 
examination : 

14 I made a little book, in which I allotted a page for each 
of the virtues. I ruled each page with red ink, so as to have 
seven columns, one for each day in the week, marking each 
column with a letter for the day. I crossed these columns 
with thirteen red lines, marking the beginning of each line 
with the first letter of one of the virtues ; on which line, and 
in its proper column, I might mark by a little black spot, 
every fault I found upon examination to have been commit- 
ted respecting that virtue, upon that day.* 

Form of the Pages. 
TEMPERANCE. 

EAT NOT TO DULNESS : DRINK NOT TO ELEVATION. 



| Sun. | Mon. 


Tues. 


Wed. | Thur. 


Fri. 


Sat. 


[ Tem.j | 












Sil. | * * 




* 




* 




Ord. |*|* 


* 




* 


* 


* 


Res. | | * 








* 




Fru. | | * 


* 






* 




Ind. | | 


* 










Sine. | 








1 


Jus. | 












Mod. | | 












Clea. | 












Tran.| 












Chas. | | 












Hum.j 













* This book is dated Sunday, 12th July, 1733, and is in the possession 
of Mr. W. T. Franklin, grandson of Dr. Franklin. 



15 I determined to give a week's attention to each of the 
virtues successively. Thus in the first week, my great regard 
was to avoid every the least offence against Temperance; 
leaving the other virtues to their ordinary chances, only 
marking every evening the faults of the day. 

16 Thus, if in the first week I could keep my first line 
marked Tern, clear of spots, I supposed the habit of that vir- 
tue so much strengthened, and its opposite weakened, that 
I might venture extending my attention to include the next; 
and for the following week keep both lines clear of spots. 
Proceeding thus to the last, I could get through a course 
complete in thirteen weeks, and four courses in a year. 

17 And like him who having a garden to weed, does not 
attempt to eradicate all the bad herbs at once, (which would 
exceed his reach and his strength,) but works on one of the 
beds at a time, and having accomplished the first, proceeds 
to a second ; so I should have (I hoped) the encouraging 
pleasure, of seeing on my pages the progress made in virtue, 
by clearing successively my lines of their spots; till in the end, 
lay a number of courses, I should be happy in viewing a clean 
book, after a thirteen weeks' daily examination. 

18 This my little book had for its motto, these lines froir 
Addison's Cato : 

" Here will I hold: if there's a power above us, 
(And that there is, all nature cries aloud 
Through all her works,) he must delight in virtue: 
And that which he delights in must be happy !" 

1 9 Another from the Proverbs of Solomon, speaking o* 
wisdom and virtue : 

" Length of days is in her right hand, and in her lef: 
hand riches and honor. Her ways are ways of pleasantness, 
and all her paths are peace." 

20 Another from Cicero: — "0 vitas philosophia dux! 
virtutum indigatrix expultrixque vitiorum! Unus Dies bene, 
et ex prseceptis tuis actus, peccanti immortalitanti est arite- 
ponendus." [O philosophy, thou guide of life ! Nourisher of 
the virtues and extinguisher of the vices ! One day well spent, 
and employed agreeable to thy precepts, is worth more than 
an eternity of sinning.] 

21 And conceiving God to be the fountain of wisdom, I 
thought it right and necessary to solicit his assistance for ob- 
taining it ; to this end I formed the following little prayer, 
which was prefixed to my tables of examination, for daily use. 

" O powerful Goodness! bountiful Father! merciful 



191 
Guide ! Increase in me that wisdom which discovers my 
truest interest: Strengthen my resolution to perform what 
that wisdom dictates: Accept my kind offices to thy other 
children, as the only return in my poioer for thy continual 
favors to me." 

22 I used also sometimes a little prayer, which I took from 
Thomson's poems, viz. 

" Father of light and life, thou Good Supreme ! 
O teach me what is good; teach me Thyself ! 
Save me from folly, vanity, and vice, 
From every low pursuit; and feed my soul 
With knowledge, conscious peace, and virtue pure; 
Sacred, substantial, never-fading bliss!" 

23 The precept of order, requiring that every part of my 
business should have its allotted time, one page in my little 
book contained the following scheme of employment for the 
twenty-four hours of a natural day : — 

SCHEME. 
Hours. 
Morning. s ~^ Rise, wash, and address Powerful 

Goodness ! contrive day's busi- 



The question, What good ) „ t 
shall I do this day? / 7 \ 



Noon. 



Afternoon* 



ness, and take the resolution 
of the day, prosecute the pre- 
sent study, and breakfast. 

10 [ work - 

C 12 5 Read, or look over my ac- 

l ^Work. 
4 



counts and dine. 



Evening. 

The question, What good 

have I done to-day. 



Night. 



5 

6 

7 

8 

9 

10 
11 
12 

1 

2 

3 

4, 



Put things in their places. 
Supper, music, or diver- 
sion, or conversation 
Examination of the day. 



> Sleep. 



tan 

24 I entered upon this plan for self-examination, and con- 
tinued it with occasional intermissions for some time. I was 
surprised to find myself so much fuller of faults than I had 
imagined ; but I had the satisfaction of seeing them diminish. 

25 To avoid the trouble of renewing now and then my lit- 
tle book, which, by scraping out the marks on the paper of 
old faults to make room for new ones in a new course, be- 
came fall of holes, I transferred my tables and precepts to 
the ivory leaves of a memorandum book, on which the lines 
were drawn with red ink, that made a durable stain ; and on 
those lines I marked my faults with a black lead pencil, which 
mark I could easily wipe out with a wet sponge. 

26 After a while I went through one course only in a 
year, and afterwards only in several years ; till I at length 
omitted them entirely, being employed in voyages and busi* 
ness abroad, with, a multiplicity of affairs, that interfered; 
but I always carried my little book with me. 

21 My scheme of Order gave me the most trouble; and I 
found that though it might be practicable when a man's busi- 
ness was such as to leave him the disposition of his time, that 
of a journeyman printer, for instance, it was not possible to be 
exactly observed by a master, who must mix with the world, 
and often receive people of business at their own hours. 

28 But on the whole, though I never arrived at the perfec- 
tion I had been so ambitious of obtaining, but fell far short 
of it, yet I was, by the endeavor, a better and a happier man 
than I otherwise should have been, if I had not attempted it; 
as those who aim at perfect writing by imitating the engraved 
copies, though they never reach the w r ished-for excellence 
of those copies, their hand is mended by the endeavor, and 
is tolerable while it continues fair and legible. 

29 It may be well my posterity should be informed, that 
to this little artifice, with the blessing of God, their ancestor 
owed the constant felicity of his life down to his 79th year, 
in which this is written. What reverses may attend the re- 
mainder, are in the hand of Providence; but if they arrive, 
the reflection on past happiness enjoyed, ought to help his 
bearing them with more resignation. To temperance he 
ascribes his long continued health, and what is still left to 
him of a good constitution. 

30 To industry and frugality ', the early easiness of his 
circumstances, and acquisition of his fortune, with all that 
knowledge that enabled him to be a useful citizen, and ob- 
tained for him some degree of reputation among the learned. 



193 
To sincerity and justice, the confidence of his country, and 
the honorable employs it conferred on him: and to the joint 
influence of the whole mass of the virtues, even in the im- 
perfect state he was able to acquire them, all that evenness c f 
temper, and that cheerfulness in conversation which makes 
his company still sought for, and agreeable even to his young 
acquaintance. I hope, therefore, that some of my descend- 
ants may follow the example and reap the benefit. 

31 It will be remarked that, though my scheme was not 
wholly without religion, there was in it no mark of any of 
the distinguished tenets of any particular sect : I had pur- 
posely avoided them; for being fully persuaded of the utility 
and excellency of my method, and that it might be service- 
able to people in all religions, and intending some time or 
other to publish it, I would not have any thing in it that 
should prejudice any one, of any sect, against it. 

32 I proposed writing a little comment on each virtue, 
in which I would have shown the advantages of possessing 
it, and the mischiefs of its opposite vice: I should have call- 
ed my book The Art of Virtue, because it would have 
shown the means and manner of obtaining virtue, which 
would have distinguished it from the mere exhortation to be 
good, that does not instruct and indicate the means, but is 
like the Apostle's man of verbal charity, who, without show- 
ing to the naked and hungry how or where they might get 
clothes or victuals, only exhorted them to be fed and cloth- 
ed.— James ii. 15, 16. 

33 But it so happened, that my intention of writing and 
publishing this comment was never fulfilled. I had, indeed, 
from time to time, put down short hints of the sentiments, 
reasonings, &c. to be made use of in it; some of which I have 
still by me; but the necessary close attention to private busi- 
ness in the earlier part of life, and public business since, have 
occasioned my postponing it. 

34 For it being connected in my mind with a great and 
extensive project that required the whole man to execute, 
and which an unforeseen succession of employs prevented 
my attention to, it has hitherto remained unfinished. 

35 In this piece it was my design to explain and enforce 
the doctrine, that vicious actions are not hurtful, because 
they are forbidden, but forbidden because they are hurtful; 
the nature of man alone considered : that it was therefore 
every one's interest to be virtuous, who wished to be happy, 
even in this world : and I should, from this circumstance, 



194 

have endeavored to convince young persons that no qualities 
are so likely to make a poor man's fortune as those of probi- 
ty and integrity. 

jy 36 My list of virtues contained, at first, but twelve : But 
a Quaker friend having kindly informed me that I was gene- 
rally thought proud; that my pride showed itself frequently 
in conversation; that I was not content with being in the 
right when discussing any point, but was overbearing and 
rather insolent, (of which he convinced me by mentioning 
several instances,) I determined to endeavor to cure myself 
if I could, of this vice or folly among the rest ; and I adc 
humility to my list, giving an extensive meaning to the won 

37 I cannot boast of much success in acquiring the realii b 
of this virtue, but I had a good deal with regard to the i 
pearance of it I made it a rule to forbear all direct contra- 
diction to the sentiments of others, and all positive assertion 
of my own. I soon found the advantage of this change in 
my manners ; the conversations I engaged in went on more 
pleasantly. 

38 The modest way in which I proposed my opinions, 
procured them a readier reception and less contradiction; I 
had less mortification when I was found to be in tht wrong, 
and I more easily prevailed with others to give up theft} mis- 
takes and join with me when I happened to be in the /ight. 
And this mode, which I at first put with some violence to 
natural inclination, became at length easy, and so habitual 
to me, that, perhaps, for the fifty years past no one has ever 
heard a dogmatical expression escape me. 

39 And to this habit (after my character of integrity) I 
think it principally owing that I had early so much weight 
with my fellow-citizens when I proposed new institutions, 
or alterations in the old, and so much influence in public 
councils, when I became a member; for I was but a bad 
speaker, never eloquent, subject to much hesitation in my 
choice of words, hardly correct in language, and yet I gene- 
rally carried my point. 

40 In reality there is, perhaps, no one of our natural pas- 
sions so hard to subdue as pride; disguise it, struggle with 
it, stifle it, mortify it as much as one pleases, it is still alive, 
and will every now and then peep out and show itself; you 
will see it perhaps often in this history. For even if I could 
conceive that I had completely overcome it, I should proba- 
bly be proud of my humility. 

[Here concludes what was written at Passy, near Paris.] 



195 

SECTION IV. 

Franklin's extensive project of raising a united party to 

virtue, fyc. 

MEMORANDUM. 

lam now about to write at home, (Philadelphia,) Au- 
gust, 1788, but cannot have the help expected from my 
papers, many of them being lost in the war. I have how- 
ever found the following: 

1 Having mentioned a great and extensive project which 
1 °tiad conceived, it seems proper, that some account should be 
^ev.e given of that project and its object. Its first rise in my 

\ind appears in a little paper accidentally preserved, viz. " Ob- 
vations on my reading history, in library, May 9, 173L 

2 " That the great affairs of the world, the wars, revolu- 
tions, &c. are carried on and affected by parties. That the 
view of these parties is their present general interest; or 
what they take to be such. That the different views of these 
different parties occasion all confusion. That while a party 
is carrying on a general design, each man has his particular 
private object in view. 

3 " That as soon as a party has gained its general point, 
each fnember becomes intent upon his particular interest, 
whic h thwarting others, breaks that party into divisions and 
occasions more confusion. 

4 " That few in public affairs act from a mere view of the 
good of others, whatever they may pretend; and though their 
actings bring real good to their country, yet men primarily 
considered, that their own and their country's interest were 
united, and so did not act from a principle of benevolence. 
That fewer still, in public affairs, act with a view to the good 
of mankind. 

5 " There seems to me at present to be great occasion for 
raising a United party to Virtue, by forming the virtuous 
and good men of all nations into a regular body, to be govern- 
ed by suitable good and wise rules, which good and wise men 
may probably be more unanimous in their obedience to, than 
common people are to common laws. 

6 " I at present think, that whoever attempts this aright, 
and is well qualified, cannot fail of pleasing God, and of meet- 
ing with success. B. F." 

7 Revolving this project in my mind, as to be undertak- 
en hereafter, when my circumstances should afford me the 
necessary leisure, I put down from time to time, on pieces of 



196 

paper, such thoughts as occurred to me respecting it. Most 
©f these are lost. 

8 My ideas at that time were, that the sect should be begun 
and spread at first, among young and single men only, that 
each person to be initiated, should have exercised himself 
with the thirteen weeks' examination and practice of all the 
virtues, as in the beforementioned model; that the existence 
of such a society should be kept a secret, till it had become 
considerable, to prevent solicitations for the admission of im 
proper members ; but that the members should each of them 
search among his acquaintance for ingenious, well-disposed 
youths, to whom, with prudent caution, the scheme should 
be gradually communicated. 

9 That the members should engage to afford their advice, 
assistance, and support to each other, in promoting one an- 
other's interest, business, and advancement in life : That for 
distinction, we should be called The Society of the Free and 
Easy. Free, as being by the general practice and habits of the 
virtues, free from the dominion of vice; and particularly by the 
practice of industry and frugality, free from debt, which exposes 
a man to constraint, and a species of slavery to his creditors. 

10 I communicated the project in part to two young men, 
who adopted it with enthusiasm : but my then narrow cir-^ 
cumstances, and the necessity I was under of sticking close to 
my business, occasioned my postponing the further prosecu- 
tion of it at that time, and my multifarious occupations, pub- 
lic and private, induced me to continue postponing, so that 
it has been omitted, till I have no longer strength or activity 
left, sufficient for such an enterprise. 

1 1 Though I am still of opinion it was a practicable scheme, 
aud might have been very useful, by forming a great number 
of good citizens : and I was not discouraged by the seeming 
magnitude of the undertaking, as I have always thought that 
one man of tolerable abilities, may work great changes, and 
accomplish great affairs among mankind, if he first forms a 
good plan; and cutting off all amusements and other employ- 
ments that would divert his attention, makes the execution 
of that same plan, his whole study and business. 

12 In 1732, I first published my almanac, under the name 
of Richard Sanders; it was continued by me about twenty- 
five years, and commonly called Poor Richard's Almanac. 
I endeavored to make it both entertaining and useful, and it 
accordingly came to be in such demand that I reaped consid- 
erable profit from it; vending annually, near ten thousand. 



137 

13 And observing that it was generally read, (scarce any 
neighborhood in the province being without it,) I considered it 
a proper vehicle for conveying instruction amongthe common 
people, who bought scarcely any other books. I therefore 
filled all the little spaces that occurred between the remarka- 
ble days in the calendar, with proverbial sentences, chiefly 
such as inculcated industry and frugality, as the means of 
procuring wealth, and thereby securing virtue; it being more 
difficult for a man in want to act always honestly, as (to use 
here one of those proverbs,) "it is hard for an empty sack 
to stand upright. " 

14 These proverbs which contained the wisdom of many 
ages and nations, I assembled and formed into a connected 
discourse prefixed to the Almanac of 1757, as the harangue 
of a wise old man to the people attending an auction : the 
bringing all these scattered counsels thus into a focus, ena- 
bled them to make greater impression. 

15 The piece being universally approved, was copied in 
all the newspapers of the American Continent, reprinted in 
Britain on a large sheet of paper, to be stuck up in houses; 
two translations were made in France, and great numbers 
bought by the clergy and gentry, to distribute gratis among 
their poor parishioners and tenants. 

16 In Pennsylvania, as it discouraged useless expense in 
foreign superfluities, some thought it had its share of influ- 
ence in producing that growing plenty of money which was 
observable for several years after its publication. 

17 1 considered my newspaper as another means of com- 
municating instruction, and in that view frequently reprinted 
in it extracts from the Spectator, and other moral writers , 
and sometimes published little pieces of mine own, which had 
been first composed for reading in our Junto. 

18 Of these are a Socratic dialogue, tending to prove, that 
whatever might be his parts and abilities, a vicious man could 
not properly be called a man of sense : and a discourse on 
self-denial, showing that virtue was not secure till its prac- 
tice became a habitude, and was free from the opposition of 
contrary inclinations: these may be found in the papers about 
the beginning of 1735. 

19 In the conduct of my newspaper I carefully excluded 
all libelling and personal abuse, which is of late years be- 
come so disgraceful to our country. 

20 After ten years' absence from Boston, and having 
become easy in my circumstances, I made a journev thither 

R2 



198 

to visit my relations, which I could not sooner afford. In re- 
turning I called at Newport, to see my brother James, then 
settled there with his printing house: our former differences 
were forgotten, and our meeting was very cordial and affec- 
tionate : he was fast declining in health, and requested of me 
that in case of his death, which he apprehended not far dis- 
tant, I would take home his son, then but twelve years of 
age, and bring him up to the printing business. 

21 This I accordingly performed, sending him a few years 
to school before I took him into the office. His mother car- 
ried on the business till he was grown up, when I assisted 
him with an assortment of new types, those of his father 
being in a manner worn out. Thus it was that I made my 
brother ample amends for the service I had deprived him of 
by leaving him so early. 



CHAPTER 3. 



ABRIDGMENT OF CICERO S DISCOURSE ON OLD AGE ; AD- 
DRESSED TO TITUS POMPONIUS ATTICUS. TRANSLATED 
BY DR. FRANKLIN. 

SECTION I. 
Essential requisites to a happy old age; a well spent life; 
pursuit of useful knowledge; virtue; exercise, and tem- 
perance; purity of conscience and conduct. 

1 The subject I have now chose to write on, is old age; 
which, as it is advancing on us both, and in a little time must 
unavoidably seize us, I would look out and endeavor to find 
the best and surest means, to make the burden of it sit as easy 
on us as possible. 

2 I must own, the thoughts that flowed on me from the 
subject, in composing it, proved so entertaining and delight- 
ful to me, while about it, that they have not only divested the 
prospect of old age, now before us, of every thing shocking 
or frightful, but they have rendered my expectations of it 
even agreeable and comfortable. 

3 Which leads me to say, we can never sufficiently ad- 
mire the excellency of philosophy, to whose dictates whoever 
submits, he will never find himself at a loss in any stage or 
condition of life, to render it not only supportable but easy. 
But on other philosophical subjects I have already wrote 
several tracts, and shall continue to write. This on old age 
(as I said) comes to you. 



199 

4 I choose for my speaker in it, old Marcus Cato; that the 
respect paid to his name and character may give greater force 
and authority to what is said. At his house I suppose Scipio 
and Laelius to be met, expressing their wonder to the old 
man, how, with such ease and cheerfulness he could support 
the weight of his years: to which he fully answers them. 
And thus they begin : 

SCIPIO. 

5 Our friend Laelius, and myself, Cato, greatly admiring 
your wisdom and vast compass of knowledge in general, have 
been particularly wondering to see how very easily and cheer- 
fully you bear your age; for w T e can't perceive that it gives 
you any manner of trouble; while we have observed others 
complaining of theirs, as if the burden w r ere insupportable. 

CATO. 

6 Indeed, my friends, you place your wonder on a matter 
far below deserving it, a business in which there is little or 
no difficulty at all; provided proper measures be taken in it. 
For know this, that those who have no aid or support within 
themselves, to render their lives easy, will find every state 
irksome: while such as are convinced, they must owe their 
happiness to themselves, and if they cannot find it in their 
own breast, they will never meet with it from abroad; will 
never consider any thing as an evil, that is but a necessary 
effect of the established order of nature; which old age most 
undoubtedly is. 

7 'Tis certainly strange, that while all men hope they may 
live to attain it, any should find fault with it when it comes 
to their share. * * * * But it was absolutely necessary, that 
some term, some period, should be set; and that, as it is with 
the fruits of trees, and of the earth, seasons should be allowed 
for their springing, growing, ripening, and at last to drop. 
This, wise men will submit to, and cheerfully bear. * * 

L^LIUS. 

8 But, Cato, you would highly oblige us both, (for I may 
venture to speak for Scipio, as well as myself, since we both 
hope, or doubtless wish at least, to be old in our turn,) if you 
would be pleased to instruct us beforehand, how, and by what 
methods, we may avoid the inconveniencies that generally 
attend old age, so as to render it the more easy to us, when 
we reach it. 

CATO. 

9 With all my heart, Laelius, in case you both desire it. 



20G 

SCIPIO. 

10 We both earnestly desire it, Cato, if not too trouble- 
some; for as you are now well advanced towards the end of a 
long journey, which we are probably to travel after you, we 
would gladly know of you, how you find it, in the stage you 
are arrived at. 

CATO. 

11 Well, I shall do my best to satisfy you. I have in- 
deed, been divers times in company with other old men, my 
equals, as you know the proverb, Birds of a feather will flock 
together; when they have been loud in their complaints of the 
inconveniencies of old age; particularly Caius Calinator and 
Spurius Albinus, men of consular dignity; who used heavily 
to lament, that they had outlived all the enjoyments of life, 
for which it was worth the living; and that they found them- 
selves slighted and forsaken by those who had formerly fol- 
lowed them, and had treated them with the highest respect. 

12 But to me, such men appear to lay their charge entirely 
wrong; for if what they complained of were owing only to their 
years, the ease must be the same with me, and all others of a 
like age: yet I have known several, who have lived to be very 
old, without complaining at all; for they appeared not only 
easy, but pleased at their being delivered from the tyranny of 
their youthful passions ; and far from finding themselves 
slighted, were still honored and revered by those about them. 

13 But the true ground of such complaints lies wholly in 
the manners of the men: for such as take care to be neither 
peevish, humorsome, nor passionate in old age, will find it tol- 
erable enough; but a perverse temper, a fretful, or an inhu- 
mane disposition, will, wherever they prevail, render any state 
whatsoever, unhappy. 

L.ELIUS. 

14 That is very true, Cato, but may not some allege, it is 
your easy circumstances in life, with your power and dignity, 
that produce this happy effect, and render your o\$ age in par- 
ticular so easy; but these, you know, are articles that fall to 
but very few people's share. 

CATO. 

15 1 confess, Laelius, there may be something in what you 
say. * * * But the best armor against old age, Scipio and 
Laelius, is a well-spent life preceding it; a life employed in 
the pursuit of useful knowledge, in honorable actions, and 
the practice of virtue; in which, he who labors to improve 
himself from his youth, will in age reap the happiest fruits of 



201 

them; not only because these never leave a man, not even in 
the extremest old age ; but because a conscience bearing wit- 
ness that our life was well spent, together with the remem- 
brance of past good actions, yields an unspeakable comfort 
to the soul. * * * * 

16 As the wise and good are in age delighted with the 
company of young people of sense and good inclinations, and 
nothing makes age sit lighter on them, than the regard and 
esteem of such; so all young people, who desire to recom- 
mend themselves to the world by a virtuous life and solid ac- 
complishments, must of course be pleased with the opportu- 
nity of improving themselves by the advice and information 
of the most experienced : and thus I judge it is, that I ob- 
serve you to be no less pleased with my conversation than I 
truly am with yours. * * * * 

17 For, what can be more honorable, what more desirable 
in life, than to see old men waited on by numbers of the 
young, making their court to them for their advice and in- 
struction. For none, certainly, will deny, that the aged are 
the best qualified for instructing of youth, and training them 
up in the knowledge, as well as animating them to the dis- 
charge of every important duty in life. * * * * 

18 And I must ever think, that all those who spend their 
time in improving others in knowledge, and teaching the no- 
bler arts, when their natural strength of body fails them, are 
entitled to our highest regard and esteem ; though it is un- 
doubtedly true that even this decay is oftener owing to some 
unhappy courses, and living too fast in youth, than to the 
natural effects of old age alone. 

19 For a libidinous and intemperate life in youth, will un- 
avoidably deliver over the body languid and enervate to suc- 
ceeding old age. * * * Constant exercise, with temperance, 
will still preserve a competent share of our pristine vigor. 

SECTION II. 

Moderation in exercise and diet : literature and science: 
rural pursuits : mildness of temper : remembrance of 
past good deeds: resignation to the laws of nature. 

1 But allowing it, that old people lose their strength, I 
say again they do not want it. The laws, their administra- 
tion, the institutions and discipline of our ancestors, public 
and private, are their proper business. 

2 We must prepare ourselves, my friends, against old age; 
and as it is advancing, endeavor by our diligence to mitigate 



202 

and correct the natural infirmities that attend it: we must use 
proper preservatives as we do against diseases ; great care 
must, in the first place, be taken of our health ; all bodily 
exercise must be moderate, and especially our diet ; which 
ought to be of such a kind, and in such proportion, as may 
refresh and strengthen nature, without oppressing it. 

3 Nor must our cares be confined to our bodies only : for 
the mind requires much more, which, without care will not 
only decay, but our understanding will as certainly die away 
in old age, as a lamp not duly supplied with oil. The body, 
we know, when overlabored, becomes heavy, and, as it 
were, jaded; but His exercise alone that supports the spirits, 
and keeps the mind in vigor. * * * * 

4 If the mind has the advantage of literat««^and science, 
and can by that means feed on, or divert itself with some 
useful or amusing study, no condition can be imagined more 
happy than such calm enjoyments, in the leisure and quiet of 
old age.* * * * * 

5 Upon all which let me ask you, what gratifications of 
sense, what voluptuous enjoyments in feasting, wine, hunt- 
ing, or play, and the like, are to be compared with those noble 
enjoyments? Those pure and serene pleasures of the mind, 
the rational fruits of knowledge and learning, that grafted on 
a good natural disposition, cultivated by a liberal education, 
and trained up in prudence and virtue, are so far from being 
palled in old age, they rather continually improve, and grow 
on the possessor. 

6 Excellent, therefore, was that expression of Solon, when 
he said, that daily learning something ', he grew old : for 
the pleasures arising from such a course, namely, those of the 
mind, must be allowed incomparably to excel all others. 

7 But I now come to speak of the pleasures of a country 
life, with which I am infinitely delighted. To these, old age 
is never an obstruction. It is the life of nature, and appears 
to me the exactest plan of that which a wise man ought to 
lead. Here our whole business is with the earth, the com- 
mon parent of us all, which is never found refractory, never 
denies what is required of it, nor fails to return back what is 
committed to it with advantage, sometimes indeed with less, 
but generally with a very large interest Nor is it the view 

* If the relish and advantage of science and literature as solaces to old 
age, were so highly appreciated by Cicero, in whose time printing* presses 
and types were unknown, how can language express the encomiums those 
enjoyments are entitled to in the present age. — Comp. 



203 
of this increase only, which yields delight, but there arises 
yet a greater, from a contemplation of the powers of the 
earth, and vegetation. * * * * 

8 Old age, in a person graced with honors, is attended 
with such respect and authority, that the sense of this alone 
is preferable to all the pleasures youth can enjoy. Yet in all 
I have said/I desire to be understood to mean the old age of 
such persons only, as have in their youth laid solid founda- 
tions for esteem in advancing years; for on no other terms 
ought we to expect it. 

9 And hence it was, that what I once said in a public 
speech, met with such general applause, when I observed, 
that miserable was that man's old age, who needed the help 
of oratory to defend him. Gray hairs and wrinkles avail no- 
thing to confer the authority I am here speaking of: it must 
be a series of good actions, and nothing but a life honorably 
and virtuously led, through all the advancing steps of it, can 
crown old age with this blessed harvest of its past labors. 

10 Nor are those common marks of respect, though of but 
little moment in themselves, to be altogether slighted; such 
as morning salutations ; to have the way or upperhand given; 
to be waited on home or from home, and to be consulted ; 
which, both with us and in all well regulated states, in pro- 
portion as they are more or less so, are more strictly observ- 
ed and practised. Lysander of Sparta, was wont to say, that 
Lacedemon was of all places, the most honorable sanctuary 
for old age. 

Ill find this also related, that a very old man coming into 
the theatre at Athens, to see a play, and the throng being so 
great that he could find no room nor seat among his own 
citizens, passing along that part where the embassadors of 
Lacedemon, then present, were placed; they all immediately 
rose up to give him a seat. 

12 The Athenians observing this, clapped, and much ap- 
plauded the action; upon which one of the Spartans passed 
this just reflection, that the Athenians (he perceived) knew 
very well what was right, but they knew not how to do it. * * 
But it is said, people as they grow in years, become more 
peevish, morose, and passionate; and you may add covetous 
too ; but as I have said, these are the faults of the men, and 
not of old age. 

13 Yet something of a little moroseness might probably, 
though not altogether justly be excused; for they may some- 
times be apt to think themselves slighted and played on ; and 



204 

further, a frail body can bear but little, and therefore will be 
the sooner offended. But all this may by proper application 
be prevented and remedied : for by reflection and a watchful 
guard kept on the motions of the heart, natural temper may 
be sweetened, and our conduct softened. A gravity with 
some severity is to be allowed ; but by no means ill-nature. 

14 We now come to the fourth and last charge, which is 
thought most nearly to affect old age, and to give the greatest 
anxiety of all others, viz. the approach of death, which 'tis cer- 
tain can be at no great distance. * * * * The spring repre- 
sents youth, and shows what fruits may be expected; the fol- 
lowing seasons are for ripening and gathering in those fruits; 
and the best fruits of old age are, as I have repeatedly said, 
the recollecting, and, as it were, feeding on the remembrance 
of that train and store of good and virtuous deeds, of which 
in the course of life, we lay in as a kind of provision for this 
season. 

15 But further, we are to consider, that as. all we enjoy is 
from nature, whatever proceeds from, or is conformable to 
the established laws of this, must in itself be good. Now can 
any thing be more agreeable to those laws, than that people 
in old age should die, since more inconsistently with the or- 
der of nature, we find the same thing happens to youth, even 
in the prime of their years. 

16 But the difference is great; for young men seem to be 
forced from life, as fires are extinguished by great quantities 
of water thrown on them ; when on the contrary, old men 
expire of themselves, like a flame, when all its fuel is spent. 
And as unripe fruit requires some force to part it from its na- 
tive bough, but when come to its full maturity, it drops of itself, 
without any hand to touch it; so young people die, by some- 
thing violent or unnatural ; but the old by mere ripeness. 

17 The thoughts of which to me are now become so agree- 
able, that the nearer I draw to my end, it seems like discov- 
ering the land at sea, that, after the tossings of a tedious and 
stormy voyage, will yield me a safe and quiet harbor. * * * * 

18 We ought then to conclude, that as there is a succes- 
sion of pursuits and pleasures, in the several stages of life, 
the one dying away, as the other advances and takes place ; . 
so in the same manner are those of old age to pass off in their 
turn. And when this satiety of life has fully ripened us, we 
are then quietly to lie down in death, as our last resting 
place, where all anxiety ends, and cares and fears subsist no 
more! * * * * 



205 

19 I am therefore far from being of the mind of some, 
and amongst them we have known men of good learning, 
who lament and bewail the condition of human life, as if it 
were a state of real misery; for I am not at all uneasy that I 
came into this world ; because I have so lived in it, that I 
have reason to believe, I have been of some use to it ; and 
when the close comes, I shall quit life as I would an inn, and 
not as a real home. For nature appears to me to have ordain- 
ed this station here for us, as a place of sojournment, a transi- 
tory abode only, and not as a fixed settlement or permanent 
habitation. * * 

20 But whether immortal or not, or whatever is to be our 
future state ; as nature sets limits to all its other productions, 
it is certainly fit, our frail bodies should, at their proper sea- 
son, be gathered, or drop into the grave. 

21 Now, these my friends, are the means, (since it was 
these you wanted to know) by which I make my old age sit 
easy and light on me; and thus I not only disarm it of every 
uneasiness, but even render it sweet and delightful. 



CHAPTER 4. 

DIALOGUES BETWEEN PHILOCLES AND HORATIO, MEETING 
ACCIDENTALLY IN THE FIELDS, CONCERNING VIRTUE AND 
PLEASURE. BY DR. BEN. FRANKLIN. 

SECTION I. 
Reasonable self-denial^ economy and prudence^ contrasted 

with unrestrained sensual indulgences j as the means of 

human happiness. 

Philocles. My friend, Horatio ! I am very glad to see you; 
prithee how came such a man is you alone ? and musing too ? 
What misfortune in your pleasures has sent you to philoso- 
phy for relief ? 

Horatio. You guess very right, my dear Philocles: We 
pleasure hunters are never without them; and yet so enchant- 
ing is the game, that we cannot quit the chase. How calm 
and undisturbed is your life! how free from present embar- 
rassments and future cares ! I know you love me, and look 
with compassion on my conduct : show me then the path 
which leads up to that constant and invariable good, which 
I have heard you so beautifully describe, and which you seem 
s6 fully to possess. 

Phil. There are few mea in the world I value more than 
s 



206 

you, Horatio! for amidst all your foibles, and painful pursuits 
of pleasure, I have oft observed in you an honest heart, and a 
mind strongly bent towards virtue. I wish from my soul I 
could assist you in acting steadily the part of a reasonable 
creature; for, if you would not think it a paradox, I should 
tell you I love you better than you do yourself. 

Hot. A paradox indeed! better than I do myself ! when I" 
love my dear self so well, that I love every thing else for my 
own sake. 

Phil. He only loves himself well, who rightly and judi- 
ciously loves himself. 

Hot. What do you mean by that, Philocles? you men of 
reason and virtue are always dealing in mysteries, though 
you laugh at them when the church makes them. I think he 
loves himself very well and very judiciously too, as you call 
it, who allows himself to do whatever he pleases. 

Phil. What, though it be the ruin and destruction of that 
very self which he loves so well ! That man alone loves him- 
self rightly, who procures the greatest possible good to him- 
self, through the whole of his existence; and so pursues plea- 
sure as not to give for it more than it is worth. 

Hor. That depends all upon opinion. Who shall judge 
what the pleasure is worth? Suppose that pleasure in general 
is so favorite a mistress, that I will take her as men do their 
wives, for better, for worse; minding no consequences, nor 
regarding what is to come. Why should I not do it ? 

Phil. Suppose, Horatio ! that a friend of yours entered into 
the world, about two and twenty, with a healthful and vigor- 
ous body, and a fair plentiful estate of about five hundred 
pounds a year; and yet before he had reached thirty, should, 
by following his pleasures, and not, as you say, duly regard- 
ing consequences, have run out of his estate, and disabled his 
body to that degree, that he had neither the means nor capa- 
city of enjoyment left; what would you say to this man's con- 
duct ? Is it wrong by opinion or fancy only? Or is there really 
a right and a wrong in the case ? Is not one opinion of life 
and action juster than another? Or, one sort of conduct pre- 
ferable to another? Or, does that miserable son of pleasure, 
appear as reasonable and lovely a being in your eyes, as a 
man who, by prudently and rightly gratifying his natural pas- 
sions, had preserved his body in full health, and his estate 
entire, and enjoyed both to a good old age, and then died 
with a thankful heart for the good things he had received, and 
with an entire submission to the will of him who first called 



207 
him into being. Say, Horatio! are these men equally wise 
and happy ? And is every thing to be measured by mere 
fancy and opinion, without considering whether that fancy 
or opinion be right ? 

Hor. Hardly so, neither, I think; yet, sure the wise and 
good Author of nature could never make us to plague us ! 
He could never give us passions, on purpose to subdue and 
conquer them ; nor produce this self of mine, or any other self, 
only that it may be denied; for, that is denying the works of 
the great Creator himself. Self-denial, then, which is what I 
suppose you mean by prudence, seems to me not only absurd, 
but very dishonorable to that supreme Wisdom and Good- 
ness which is supposed to make so contradictory a creature, 
that must be always fighting with himself in order to be at 
rest, and undergo voluntary hardships in order to be happy : 
Are we created sick only to be commanded to be sound? Are 
we born under one law, our passions, and yet bound to another, 
that of reason ? Answer me, Philocles, for I am warmly con- 
cerned for the honor of nature, the mother of us all. 

PhiL I find, Horatio, my two characters have frightened 
you, so that you decline the trial of what is good, by reason; 
and had rather make a bold attack upon Providence, the usual 
way of you gentlemen of fashion, who, when, by living in 
defiance of the eternal rules of reason, you have plunged your- 
selves into a thousand difficulties, endeavor to make your- 
selves easy, by throwing the burden upon nature. You are, 
Horatio, in a very miserable condition indeed ; for you say, 
you cannot be happy if you control your passions; and you 
feel yourself miserable by an unrestrained gratification of 
them; so that here is evil, irremediable evil either way. 

Hor. That is very true, at least it appears so to me. Pray, 
what have you to say, Philocles, in honor of Nature or Provi- 
dence ; methinks I am in pain for her. How do you rescue her? 

PhiL This, my dear Horatio, I have to say, that what you 
find fault with, and clamor against, as the most terrible evil 
in the world, self-denial, is really the greatest good, and the 
highest gratification: If indeed you use the word in the sense 
of some sour moralists, you will have just reason to laugh at 
it; but if you take it as understood by philosophers, and men 
of sense, you will presently see her charms, and fly to her 
embraces, notwithstanding her demure looks, as absolutely 
necessary to produce even your own darling sole good, plea- 
sure : for, self-denial is a natural means of procuring more 
pleasure than you can taste without it, so that this grave saint- 



208 
like guide to happiness, as rough and dreadful as she has been 
made to appear, is in truth, the kindest and most beautiful 
mistress in the world. 

Hor. Prithee, Philocles, do not wrap yourself in allegory 
and metaphor; why do you teaze me thus? I long to be satis- 
fied: what is this philosophical self-denial; the necessity and 
reason of it? I am impatient and all on fire: explain, there- 
fore, in your beautiful, natural, easy way of reasoning, what 
I am to understand by this grave lady of yours, with so for 
bidding, downcast looks, and yet so absolutely necessary to 
my pleasures. I stand ready to embrace her, for you know, 
pleasure I court under all shapes and forms. 

Phil. Attend then, and you shall see the reason of this phi- 
losophical self-denial. There can be no absolute perfection 
in any creature; because every creature is derived from some- 
thing of a superior existence, and dependent on that source 
for its own existence: no created being can be all-wise, all- 
good, and all-powerful, because his powers and capacities are 
Unite and limited; consequently whatever is created must, in 
its own nature, be subject to error, irregularity, excess, and 
imperfectness. All intelligent rational agents, find in them- 
selves a power of judging what kind of beings they are; what 
actions are proper to preserve them ; and what consequences 
will generally attend them ; what pleasures they are formed 
for, and to what degree their natures are capable of receiv- 
ing them. All we have to do then, Horatio, is to consider, 
when we are surprised with a new object, and passionately 
desire to enjoy it, whether the gratifying that passion be 
consistent with the gratifying other passions and appetites 
equal, if not more necessary to us, and whether it consists 
with our happiness, to-morrow, next week, or next year, for, 
as we all wish to live, we are obliged, by reason, to take 
as much care for our future, as our present happiness, and 
not build one upon the ruins of the other : but, if through 
the strength and power of a present passion, and through 
want of attending to consequences, we have erred, and ex- 
ceeded the bounds which nature or reason have set us ; we are 
then, for our own sakes, to refrain, or deny ourselves a present 
momentary pleasure, for a future, constant, and durable one: 
so that this philosophical self-denial is only refusing to do an 
action, which you strongly desire ; because it is inconsistent 
with your health, convenience, or circumstances in the world: 
or in other w^ords, because it costs you more than it was worth. 
You would lose by it as a man of pleasure. Thus you see. 



209 
Horatio, that self-denial is not only the most reasonable, but 
the most pleasant thing in the world. 

Hor. We are just coming into town, so that we cannot 
pursue this argument any farther at present ; you have said a 
great deal for Nature, Providence and Reason : happy are 
they who can follow such divine guides. 

Phil. Horatio, good night ; I wish you wise in your plea- 
sures. 

Hor. I wish, Philocles, I could be as wise in my pleasures, 
as you are pleasantly wise; your wisdom is agreeable ; your 
virtue is amiable ; and your philosophy the highest luxury. 
Adieu ! thou enchanting reasoner. 

SECTION II. 
t/2 second dialogue on the same subject. Government of 

the passions, and doing good to others, the surest means 

of attaining uninterrupted happiness. 

Philocles. Dear Horatio, where hast thou been these three 
or four months ? What new adventures have you fallen upon 
since I met you in these delightful all-inspiring fields, and 
wondered how such a pleasure-hunter as you could bear to 
be alone ? 

Horatio. Philocles ! thou best of friends, because a friend 
to reason and virtue! I am very glad to see you: Do not you 
remember, I told you then, that some misfortunes in my plea- 
sures had sent me to philosophy for relief; but now I do assure 
you, I can, without a sigh, leave other pleasures for those of 
philosophy : I can hear the word reason mentioned, and vir- 
tue praised, without laughing : Do not I bid fair for conver 
sion, think you ? 

Phil. Very fair, Horatio, for I remember the time when 
reason, virtue, and pleasure, were the same thing with you; 
when you counted nothing good but what pleased, nor any 
thing reasonable but what you gained by; when you made a 
jest of a mind and the pleasures of reflection, and elegantly 
placed your sole happiness, like the rest of the animal crea- 
tion, in the gratification of sense. 

Hor. I did so ; but in our last conversation, when walking 
upon the brow of this hill, and looking down on that broad, 
rapid river, and yon widely extended, beautifully varied 
plain, you taught me another doctrine : you showed me that 
self-denial, which above all things I abhorred, was really the 
greatest good and the highest gratification, and absolutely ne- 
cessary to produce even my own darling, sole good, pleasure, 
S3 



210 

Phil. True : I told you that reasonable self-denial was a 
natural means of procuring more pleasure than we could 
taste without it ; that, as we all strongly desire to live, and 
to live only to enjoy, we should take as much care about our 
future as our present happiness, and not build one upon the 
ruins of the other; that we should look to the end, and re- 
gard consequences; and if, through want of attention, w r e had 
erred, and exceeded the bounds which nature had set us, we 
were then obliged, for our own sakes, to refrain, or deny 
ourselves a present, momentary pleasure, for a future, con- 
stant, and durable good. 

Hor. You have shown, Philocles, that self-denial, which 
weak or interested men have rendered the most forbidding, 
is really the most delightful and amiable, the most reason- 
able and pleasant thing in the world. In a word, if I under- 
stand you aright, self-denial is, in truth, self-recognizing, 
self-acknowledging, or self-owning. But now, my friend, 
you are to perform another promise, and show me the path 
which leads up to that constant, durable, and invariable good, 
which I have heard you so beautifully describe, and w T hich 
you seem so fully to possess. Is not this good of yours a 
mere chimera ? Can any thing be constant in a world which 
is eternally changing, and which appears to exist by an ever- 
lasting revolution of one thing into another, and where every 
thing without us, and every thing w r ithin us, is in perpetual 
motion? What is this constant, durable good, then, of yours? 

Phil. You seem enthusiastically warm, Horatio. I will 
wait till you are cool enough to attend to the sober, dispas- 
sionate voice of reason. 

Hor. You mistake me, my dear Philocles, my warmth is 
not so great as to run away with my reason; it is only just 
raised enough to open my faculties, and fit them to receive 
those eternal truths, and that durable good, which you so tri- 
umphantly boast of. Begin, then, I am prepared. 

Phil. I will, I believe, Horatio, with all your scepticism 
about you; you will allow that good to be constant which is 
never absent from you, and that to be durable, which never 
ends but with your being. 

Hor. Yes; go on. 

Phil. That can never be the good of a creature which, 
when present, the creature may be miserable, and when ab- 
sent, is certainly so. 

Hot. I think not; but pray explain what you mean; for I 

i not much used to this abstract way of reasoning. 



211 

Phil. I mean all the pleasures of sense. The good of 
man cannot consist in the mere pleasures of sense; because, 
when any one of those objects which you love is absent, or 
cannot be come at, you are certainly miserable; and if the 
faculty be impaired, though the object be present, you can 
not enjoy it. So that this sensual good depends upon a thou 
sand things without and within you, and all out of youi 
power. Can this, then, be the good of man ? Say, Horatio, 
what think you, is not this a checkered, fleeting, fantastical 
good ? Can that, in any propriety of speech, be called the 
good of man, in which even, while he is tasting, he may be 
miserable, and in which, when he cannot taste, he is neces- 
sarily so ? Can that be our good which costs us a great deal 
of pains to obtain, which cloys in possessing, for which we 
must wait the return of appetite before we can enjoy again ? 
Or, is that our good which we can come at without difficulty, 
which is heightened by possession, which never ends in wea- 
riness and disappointment, and which, the more we enjoy, 
the better qualified we are to enjoy on ? 

Hot. The latter, I think; but why do you torment me thus? 
Philocles, show me this good immediately. 

Phil. I have showed you what it is not ; it is not sensual, 
but it is rational and moral good. It is doing all the good 
we can to others, by acts of humanity, friendship, generosity, 
and benevolence : this is that constant and durable good, 
which will afford contentment and satisfaction always alike, 
without variation or diminution. I speak to your experience 
now, Horatio: Did you ever find yourself weary of relieving 
the miserable ? Or of raising the distressed into life or hap- 
piness ? Or rather, do not you find the pleasure grow upon 
you by repetition; and that it is greater in reflection than in 
the act itself ? Is there a pleasure upon earth to be compared 
with that which arises from the sense of making others hap- 
py ? Can this pleasure ever be absent, or ever end but with 
your being ? Does it not always accompany you ? Doth it not 
lie down and rise with you, live as long as you live, give you 
consolation in the article of death, and remain with you in 
that gloomy hour, when all things are going to forsake you, 
or you them ? 

Hor. How glowingly you paint, Philocles ! Methinks Ho- 
ratio is among the enthusiasts. I feel the passion; I am en- 
chantingly convinced; but I know not why: overborne by 
something stronger than reason: sure, some divinity speaks 
within me. But prithee, Philocles, give me coolly the cause 



212 

why this rational and moral good so infinitely excels the 
mere natural or sensual. 

PhiL I think, Horatio, that I have clearly shown you the 
difference between the merely natural or sensual good, and 
rational or moral good. Natural or sensual pleasure con- 
tinues no longer than the action itself ; but this divine or 
moral pleasure continues when the action is over, and swells 
and grows upon your hand by reflection: the one is incon- 
stant, unsatisfying, of short duration, and attended with 
numberless ills; the other is constant, yields full satisfaction, 
is durable, and no evils preceding, accompanying, or follow- 
ing it. But if you inquire farther into the cause of this dif- 
ference, and would know why the moral pleasures are greater 
than the sensual, perhaps the reason is the same as in all 
other creatures, that their happiness or chief good consists 
in acting up to their chief faculty, or that faculty which dis- 
tinguishes them from all creatures of a different- species. The 
chief faculty in man is his reason; and consequently, his chief 
good; or, that which may justly be called his good, consists 
not merely in action, but in reasonable action. But in rea- 
sonable actions, we understand those actions, which are pre- 
servative of the human kind ; and naturally tend to produce 
real and unmixed happiness ; and these actions, by w T ay of 
distinction, we call actions morally good. 

Hor. You speak very clearly, Philocles, but, that no diffi- 
culty may remain upon my mind, pray, tell me, what is the 
real difference between natural good and evil, and mora] good 
and evil ; for I know several people who use the terms with- 
out ideas. 

Ph it. That may be : the difference lies only in this, that natu- 
ral good and evil, are pleasure and pain: moral good and evil, 
are pleasure or pain produced with intention and design. For, it 
is the intention only that makes the agent morally good or bad. 

Hor. But may not a man, with a very good intention, do 
an evil action ? 

PhiL Yes ; but then he errs in his judgment, though his 
design be good : if his error is invincible, or such as, all things 
considered, he could not help, he is inculpable: but, if it arose 
from want of diligence in forming his judgment about the na- 
ture of human actions, he is immoral and culpable. 

Hor. I find then, that in order to please ourselves rightly, 
or to do good to others morally, we should take great care of 
our opinions. 

PhiL Nothing concerns you more ; for as the happiness or 



213 

real good of man consists in right action ; and right action can- 
not be produced without right opinion; it behoves us, above 
all things in this world, to take care that our opinions of things 
be according to the nature of things. The foundation of all 
virtue and happiness is thinking rightly. He who sees an ac- 
tion is right, that is, naturally tending to good, and does it be- 
cause of that tendency, he only is a moral man; and he alone 
is capable of that constant, durable, and invariable good, 
which has been the subject of this conversation. 

Hor. How, my dear philosophical guide, shall I be able 
to know, and determine certainly, what is right and wrong 
in life ? 

Phil. As easily as you distinguish a circle from a square, 
or light from darkness. Look, Horatio, into the sacred book 
of Nature; read your own nature, and view the relation, 
which other men stand in to you, and you to them, and you 
will immediately see what constitutes human happiness, and 
consequently what is right. 

Hor. We are just coming into town, and can say no more 
at present. You are my good genius, Philocles, you have 
showed me w r hat is good; you have redeemed me from the 
slavery and misery of folly and vice ; and made me a free 
and happy being. 

Phil. Then am I the happiest man in the world; be you 
steady, Horatio, never depart from reason and virtue. 

Hor. Sooner will I lose my existence. Good night, Phi- 
locles. 

Phil. Adieu, dear Horatio! 



CHAPTER 5. 



THE WAY TO WEALTH, AS POINTED OUT IN THE SAYINGS OP 
POOR RICHARD ;* PUBLISHED BY DR. FRANKLIN IN 1757, 
AND IN HIS ESSAYS ON INDUSTRY AND ECONOMY. 

But for one end, one much neglected use, are riches worth your care : 

This noble end is, to show the virtues in their fairest light ; 

To make humanity the minister of bounteous Providence, 

And teach the breast the generous luxury of doing good.— Armstrong 

SECTION I. 
Industry: early rising: vigilance. 

COURTEOUS READER, 

1 I have heard, that nothing gives an author so great plea- 
sure, as to find his works respectfully quoted by others. Judge, 

*See page 196. 



214 

then, how much I must have been gratified by an incident I 
am going to relate to you. I stopped my horse, lately, where 
a great number of people were collected at an auction of mer- 
chants goods. 

2 The hour of the sale not being come, they were convers- 
ing on the badness of the times ; and one of the company 
called to a plain, clean old man, with white locks, " Pray, 
father Abraham, what think you of the times ? Will not these 
heavy taxes quite ruin the country ? How shall we be ever j 
able to pay them? What would you advise us to do ?" 

3 Father Abraham stood up, and replied, " If you would 
have my advice, I will give it you in short ; ' for a word to 
the wise is enough/ as Poor Richard says. They joined in 
desiring him to speak his mind, and gathering round him, 
he proceeded as follows : 

4 " Friends, says he, the taxes are, indeed, very heavy; and 
if those laid on by the government, were the only ones we had 
to pay, we might more easily discharge them; but we have 
many others, and much more grievous to some of us. We 
are taxed twice as much by our idleness, three times as much 
by our pride, and four times as much by our folly; and from 
these taxes the commissioners cannot ease or deliver us, by 
allowing an abatement. However, let us hearken to good 
advice, and something may be done for us; 'God helps them 
that help themselves/ as Poor Richard says. 

5 " It would bethought a hard government that should 
tax its people one tenth part of their time, to be employed in 
its service: but idleness taxes many of us much more; sloth, 
by bringing on diseases, absolutely shortens life. < Sloth, 
like rust, consumes faster than labor wears, while the used 
key is always bright/ as Poor Richard says. 

6 " ' But dost thou love life, then do not squander time, for 
that is the stuff life is made of/ as Poor Richard says. How 
much more than is necessary do we spend in sleep ! forget- 
ting that c The sleeping fox catches no poultry, and that there 
will be sleeping enough in the grave,' as Poor Richard says. 

7 " ' If time be of all things the most precious, wasting time 
must be/ as Poor Richard says, < the greatest prodigality/ 
since, as he elsewhere tells us, ' Lost time is never found 
again ; and what we call time enough always proves little 
enough:' Let us then up and be doing, and doing to the pur- 
pose; so by diligence shall we do more with less perplexity. 

8 " ' Sloth makes all things difficult, but industry all easy: 
and, he that riseth late, must trot all day, and shall scarce 



215 

overtake his business at night ; while laziness travels so slow- 
ly, that poverty soon overtakes him. Drive thy business, let 
not that drive thee; and early to bed and early to rise, makes 
a man healthy, wealthy and wise,' as Poor Richard says. 

9 " So that what signifies wishing and hoping for better 
times ? We may make these times better if we bestir our- 
selves. ' Industry need not wish, and he that lives upon 
hope will die fasting. There are no gains without pains : 
then, help hands for I have no lands/ or if I have they are 
smartly taxed. ' He that hath a trade, hath an estate; and he 
that hath a calling, hath an office of profit and honor/ as 
Poor Richard says ; but then the trade must be worked at, 
and the calling well followed, or neither the estate nor the 
office will enable us to pay our taxes. 

10 " 'If we are industrious, we will never starve; for at 
the working man's house, hunger looks in, but dares not en- 
ter/ Nor will the bailiff or the constable enter, for 'in- 
dustry pays debts, while despair increaseth them. 5 What, 
though you have found no treasure, nor has any rich relation 
left you a legacy, ' Diligence is the mother of good luck, and 
God gives all things to industry. 

11 "'Then plow deep, while sluggards sleep, and you 
shall have corn to sell and to keep. ' Work while it is called 
to-day, for you know not how much you may be hindered 
to-morrow. ' One to-day is worth two to-morrows/ as Poor 
Richard says ; and farther, ' Never leave that till to-morrow, 
which you can do to-day. ' 

12 "If you were a servant, would you not be ashamed 
that a good master should catch you idle ? Are you then your 
own master? be ashamed to catch yourself idle, when there 
is so much to be done for yourself, your family, your rela- 
tions, and your country. 

13 " Handle your tools without mittens: remember, that 
' The cat in gloves catches no mice/ as Poor Richard says. 
It is true, there is much to be done, and, perhaps, you are 
weak-handed; but stick to it steadily, and you will see great 
effects; for 'constant dropping wears away stones; and by 
diligence and patience the mouse ate in two the cable ; and 
little strokes fell great oaks. ' 

14 " Methinks I hear some of you say, ' must a man af- 
ford himself no leisure V I will tell thee my friend what Poor 
Richard says ; ' Employ thy time well, if thou meanest to 
gain leisure ; and, since thou art not sure of a minute, throw 
not 3 way an hour.' Leisure is time for doing something use- 



216 • 

ful ; this leisure the diligent man will obtain, but the lazy man 
never; for, 'a life of leisure and a life of laziness are two things/ 

15 "'Many, without labor, would live by their wits only, 
but they break for want of stock ;' whereas industry gives 
comfort, and plenty, and respect. i Fly pleasures, and they 
will follow you. The diligent spinner has plenty of clothes; 
and now I have a sheep and a cow, every body bids me good- 
morrow.' 

16 "But with our industry, we must likewise be steady, 
settled, and careful, and oversee our own affairs with our 
own eyes, and not trust too much to others ; for, as Poor 
Richard says, 

* I never saw an oft-removed tree, 

Nor yet an oft-removed family, 

That throve so well as those that settled be.' 

17 "And again, 'three removes is as bad as afire;' and 
again, ' keep thy shop, and thy shop will keep thee ;' and 
again, ' if you would have your business done, go ; if not, 
send.' And again, 

c He that by the plow would thrive, 
Himself must either hold or drive.' 

18 "And again, 'the eye of a master will do more work 
than both his hands;' and again, ' want of care does us more 
damage than want of knowledge;' and again, ' not to oversee 
workmen, is to leave them your purse open.' Trusting too 

^uch to others' care is the ruin of many; for, 'If you would 
have a faithful servant, and one that you like, serve yourself. ' 

19 " ' A little neglect may breed great mischief; for want 
of a nail the shoe was lost; for want of a shoe the horse was 
lost; and for want of a horse the rider was lost ;' being over- 
taken and slain by the enemy ; all for w r ant of a little care 
about a horse-shoe nail. 



SECTION II. 
Frugality: calamities of pride, extravagance and debts. 

1 "So much for industry, my friends, and attention to 
one's own business, but to these we must add frugality, if we 
would make our industry more certainly successful. A man 
may, if he knows not how to save as he gets, ' keep his nose 
all his life to the grindstone, and die not worth a groat at last' 

2 " 'A fat kitchen makes a lean will;' and 

c Many estates are spent in the getting*, 

Since women for tea forsook spinning" and knitting", 

And men for punch forsook hewing and splitting. 1 



217 

i If you would be wealthy, think of saving, as well as of get- 
ting. The Indies have not made Spain rich, because her out- 
goes are greater than her incomes/ 

3 "Away, then, with your expensive follies, and you will 
not then have so much cause to complain of hard times, heavy 
taxes, and chargeable families ; and farther, i what maintains 
one vice, would bring up two children.' 

4 " You may think, perhaps, that a little tea, or a little 
punch now and then, diet a little more costly, clothes a little 
finer, and a little entertainment now and then, can be no great 
matter ; but remember < many a little makes a mickle.' 

5 " Beware of little expenses ; ' a small leak will sink a 
great ship/ as Poor Richard says; and again, 'who dainties 
love, shall beggars prove V and moreover, ' fools make feasts, 
and wise men eat them.' Here you are all got together to this 
sale of fineries and nick-nacks. You call them goods; but if 
you do not take care, they will prove evils to some of you. 

6 "You expect they will be sold cheap, and, perhaps, they 
may for less than they cost; but, if you have no occasion for 
them, they must be dear to you. Remember wiiat Poor 
Richard says, ' Buy what thou hast no need of, and ere long 
thou shalt sell thy necessaries. 5 And again, 'At a great 
pennyworth pause awhile :' he means, that perhaps the cheap- 
ness is apparent only, and not real ; or the bargain, by strait- 
ening thee in thy business, may do thee more harm than good. 

7 " For in another place he says, ' Many have been ruin- 
ed by buying good penny worths.' Again, 'It is foolish to 
lay out money in a purchase of repentance / and yet this folly 
is practised every day at auctions, for want of minding the 
Almanac. Many a one, for the sake of finery on the back, 
has gone with a hungry belly, and half starved their families; 
' Silks and satins, scarlet and velvets, put out the kitchen 
fire/ as Poor Richard says. 

8 " These are not the necessaries of life; they can scarcely 
be called the conveniencies : and yet only because they look 
pretty, how many want to have them ! By these and other 
extravagancies, the genteel are reduced to poverty, and 
forced to borrow of those whom they formerly despised, but 
who, through industry and frugality, have maintained their 
standing ; in which case it appears plainly, that C A plowman 
on his legs is higher than a gentleman on his knees/ as Poor 
Richard says. 

9 " Perhaps they have had a small estate left them, which 
thev knew not the getting of : they think ' It is day, and will 

T 



218 

never be night:' that a little to be spent out of so much is 
not worth minding; but ' Always taking out of the meal-tub, 
and never putting in, soon comes to the bottom/ as Poor 
Richard says; and then, ' When the well is dry, they know 
the worth of water.* 

10 "But this they might have known before, if they had 
taken his advice. ' If you would know the value of money, 
go and try to borrow some; for he that goes a borrowing 
goes a sorrowing/ as Poor Richard says ; and, indeed, so 
does he that lends to such people, when he goes to get it 
again. Poor Dick farther advises, and says, 

* Fond pride of dress is sure a very curse ; 
Ere fancy you consult, consult your purse.' 

11 " And again, ' Pride is as loud a beggar as Want, and 
a great deal more saucy.' When you have bought one fine 
thing, you must buy ten more, that your appearance may 
be all of a piece; but Poor Dick says, 'It is easier to sup- 
press the first desire, than to satisfy all that follow it:' And 
it is as truly folly for the poor to ape the rich, as for the 
frog to swell in order to equal the ox. 

' Vessels large may venture more, 
But little boats should keep near shore.' 

12 "It is, however, a folly soon punished; for, as Poor 
Richard says, 'Pride that dines on vanity, sups on contempt; 
Pride breakfasted with plenty, dined with Poverty, and 
supped with Infamy.' And, after all, of what use is this 
pride of appearance for which so much is risked, so much is 
suffered? It cannot promote health, nor ease pain; it makes 
no increase of merit in the person, it creates envy, it hastens 
misfortune. 

13 " But what madness must it be to run in debt for these 
superfluities ! We are offered, by the terms of this sale, six 
months credit; and that, perhaps, has induced some of us to 
attend it, because we cannot spare the ready money, and hope 
now to be fine without it. But, ah! think what you do when 
you run in debt ; you give to another power over your liberty. 

14 "If you cannot pay at the time, you will be ashamed to 
see your creditor ; you will be in fear when you speak to him ; 
you will make poor, pitiful, sneaking excuses, and, by de- 
grees, come to lose your veracity, and sink into base, down- 
right lying; for, 'The second vice is lying, the first is run- 
ning in debt/ as Poor Richard says; and again, to the same 
purpose, < Lying rides upon Debt's back :' whereas a free 



219 

American ought not to be ashamed, nor afraid to speak to any 
man living. 

15 "But poverty often deprives a man of all spirit and vir- 
tue. 'It is hard for an empty bag to stand upright. 5 What 
would you think of that nation, or of that government, who 
should issue an edict, compelling you to dress like a gentle- 
man or gentlewoman, on pain of imprisonment or servitude? 
Would you not say, that you were free, have a right to dress 
as you please, and that such an edict would be a breach of 
your privileges, and such a government tyrannical ? 

16 "And yet you are about to put yourself under that ty- 
ranny when you run in debt for such a dress! Your creditor 
has authority to deprive you of your liberty, by confining 
you in jail, if you should not be able to pay him: when you 
have got your bargain, you may, perhaps, think little of pay- 
ment ; but, as Poor Richard says, ' Creditors have better 
memories than debtors; creditors are a superstitious sect, 
great observers of set days and times/ 

17 "The day comes round before you are aware, and the 
demand is made before you are prepared to satisfy it ; or, if 
you bear your debt in mind, the term, which at first seemed 
so long, will, as it lessens, appear extremely short : Time will 
seem to have added wings to his heels as well as his shoul- 
ders. At present, perhaps, you may think yourselves in thriv- 
ing circumstances, and that you can bear a little extravagance 
without injury ; but, 

' For age and want save while you may, 
No morning" sun lasts a whole day.' 

18 u Gain may be temporary and uncertain, but ever, while 
you live, expense is constant and certain ; and, ' It is easier 
to build two chimneys, than to keep one in fuel/ as Poor 
Richard says : So, 

4 Get what you can, and what you get hold, 

'Tis the stone that will turn all your lead into gold.* 

And when you have got the philosopher's stone, sure you 
will no longer complain of bad times, or the difficulty of pay- 
ing taxes. 

19 " This doctrine, my friends, is reason and wisdom: but, 
after all, do not depend too much upon your own industry 
and frugality, and prudence, though excellent thing%; for 
they may all be blasted without the blessing of Heaven ; and 
therefore, ask that blessing humbly, and be not uncharitable to 
those that at present seem to want it, but comfort and help them. 
Remember, Job suffered, and was afterwards prosperous. 



220 

20 "And now to conclude, ' Experience keeps a dear 
school, but fools will learn in no other/ as Poor Richard says, 
and scarce in that; for, it is true, ( We may give advice, but 
we cannot give conduct :' However, remember this, < They 
that will not be counselled cannot be helped;' and farther, 
that c If you will not hear Reason, she will surely rap your 
knuckles/ as Poor Richard says." 

21 Thus the old gentleman ended his harangue. The 
people heard it, and approved the doctrine, and immediately 
practised the contrary, just as if it had been a common ser- 
mon; for the auction opened, and they began to buy extrava- 
gantly. I found the good man had thoroughly studied my 
Almanacs, and digested all I had dropped on those topics dur- 
ing the course of twenty-five years. 

22 The frequent mention he made of me must have tired 
any one else; but my vanity was wonderfully delighted with 
it, though I was conscious, that not a tenth part of the wis- 
dom was my own, which he ascribed to me; but rather the 
gleanings that I had made of the sense of al] ages and nations. 
However, I resolved to be the better for the echo of it; and, 
though at first I had determined to buy stuff for a new coat, 
I went away, resolved to wear my old one a little longer. 
Reader, if thou wilt do the same, thy profit will be as great 
as mine. I am, as ever, thine to serve thee. 

RICHARD SAUNDERS. 



SECTION III. 

Advice to a young tradesman. 

[Written 1748.] 

To my friend *#. 13. 

As you have desired it of me, I write the following" hints, which have 

been of service to me, and may, if observed, be so to you. 

1 Remember that time is money. He that can earn ten 
shillings a day by his labor, and goes abroad, or sits idle one 
half of that day, though he spends but sixpence during his 
diversion or idleness, ought not to reckon that the only ex- 
pense; he has really spent, or rather thrown away, five shil- 
lings besides. 

2 Remember that credit is money. If a man lets his 
money lie in my hands after it is due, he gives me the inte- 
rest, or so much as I can make of it during that time. This 
amounts to a considerable sum when a man has good and 
large credit, and makes good use of it. 

3 Remember that money is of a prolific generating nature. 



221 

Money can beget money, and its offspring can beget more, 
and so on. Five shillings turned is six; turned again it is 
seven and three pence; and so on till it becomes a hundred 
pounds. The more there is of it, the more it produces, every 
turning, so that the profits rise quicker and quicker. He 
that murders a crown, destroys all that it might have pro- 
duced, even scores of pounds. 

4 Remember that six pounds a year is but a groat a day. 
For this little sum, which may be daily wasted either in time 
or expense, unperceived, a man of credit may, on his own 
security, have the constant possession and use of a hundred 
pounds. So much in stock, briskly turned by an industrious 
man, produces great advantage. 

5 Remember this saying, " the good paymaster is lord of 
another man's pnrse." He that is known to pay punctually 
and exactly to the time he promises, may at any time, and on 
any occasion, raise all the money his friends can spare. This 
is sometimes of great use. After industry and frugality, no- 
thing contributes more to the raising of a young man in the 
w r orld, than punctuality and justice in all his dealings: there- 
fore never keep borrowed money an hour beyond the time 
you promised, lest a disappointment shut up your friend's 
purse for ever. 

6 The most trifling actions that affect a man's credit are 
to be regarded. The sound of your hammer at five in the 
morning, or nine at night, heard by a creditor, makes him 
easy six months longer; but if he sees you at a billiard table, 
or hears your voice at a tavern, when you should be at work, 
he sefads for his money the next day ; demands it before he 
can receive it in a lump. It shows, besides, that you are mind- 
ful of what you owe ; it makes you appear a careful, as well 
as honest man, and that still increases your credit. 

7 Beware of thinking all your own that you possess, and 
of living accordingly. It is a mistake that many people who 
have credit fall into. To prevent this, keep an exact account 
for some time, both of your expenses and your income. If 
you take the pains at first to mention particulars, it will have 
this good effect ; you will discover how wonderfully small 
trifling expenses mount up to large sums, and will discern 
what might have been, and may for the future, be saved, with- 
out occasioning any great inconvenience. 

8 In short, the way to wealth, if you desire it, is as plain 
as the way to market. It depends chiefly on two words, in- 
dustry and frugality; that is, waste neither lime nor money. 

T 2 



222 

but make the best use of both. Without industry and fru- 
gality nothing will' do, and with them every thing. He that 
gets all he can honestly, and saves all he gets (necessary ex- 
penses excepted) will certainly become rich; if that Being 
who governs the world, to whom all should look for a bless- 
ing on their honest endeavors, doth not, in his wise provi- 
dence otherwise determine. 



SECTION IV. 
The ivay to make money plenty in every man's pocket. 

1 At this time, when the general complaint is that " money 
is scarce/' it will be an act of kindness to inform the money- 
less how- they may reinforce their pockets. I will acquaint 
them with the true secret of money-catching, the certain way 
to fill empty purses, and how to keep them always full. Two 
simple rules, well observed, will do the business. First, Let 
honesty and industry be thy constant companions ; and, 
Secondly, Spend one penny less than thy clear gains. 

2 Then shall thy hide-bound pocket soon begin to thrive, 
neither will creditors insult thee, nor want oppress, nor hun- 
ger bite, nor nakedness freeze thee. The whole hemisphere 
will shine brighter, and pleasure spring up in every corner of 
thy heart. Now, therefore, embrace these rules and be hap- 
py. Banish the bleak winds of sorrow from thy mind, and 
live independent. 

3 Then shalt thou be a man, and not hide thy face at the 
approach of the rich, nor suffer the pain of feeling little when 
the sons of fortune walk at thy right hand : for independency, 
whether with little or much, is good fortune, and placeth thee 
on even ground with the proudest of the golden fleece. Oh, 
then, be wise, and let industry walk with thee in the morning, 
and attend thee until thou readiest the evening hour for rest. 

4 Let honesty he as the breath of thy soul, and never for- 
get to have a penny, when all thy expenses are enumerated 
and paid ; then shalt thou reach the point of happiness, and 
independence shall be thy shield and buckler, thy helmet and 
crown ; then shall thy soul walk upright, nor stoop to the 
silken wretch because he hath riches, nor pocket an abuse be- 
cause the hand which offers it, wears a ring set with diamonds. 



223 
CHAPTER 6. 

DETACHED SELECTIONS FROM THE MORAL ESSAYS AND 
LETTERS OF DR. FRANKLIN. 

SECTION I. 

The handsome and deformed leg: showing the unhappi- 

ness of a fault-finding disposition. 

1 There are two sorts of people in the world, who, with 
equal degrees of health and wealth in the world, and the other 
comforts of life, become the one happy, and the other mise- 
rable. This arises very much from the different views in 
which they consider things, persons, and events ; and the 
effect of those different views upon their own minds. 

2 In whatever situation men can be placed, they may find 
conveniences and inconveniences ; in whatever company, 
they may find persons and conversation more or less pleas- 
ing; at whatever table, they may meet with meats and drinks 
of better and worse taste, dishes better and worse dressed: in 
whatever climate, they will find good and bad weather: un- 
der whatever government, they may find good and bad laws, 
and good and bad administration of those laws : in whatever 
poem, or work of genius, they may see faults and beauties: in 
almost every face, and every person, they may discover fine 
features and defects, good and bad qualities. 

3 Under these circumstances, the two sorts of people 
abovementioned, fix their attention; those who are disposed 
to be happy, on the conveniences of things, the pleasant parts 
of conversation, the well-dressed dishes, the goodness of the 
wines, the fine weather, &c. and enjoy all with cheerfulness. 
Those who are to be unhappy, think and speak only of the 
contraries. Hence they are continually discontented them- 
selves, and by their remarks, sour the pleasures of society ; 
offend personally many people, and make themselves every 
where disagreeable. 

4 If this turn of mind was founded in nature, such unhap- 
py persons would be the more to be pitied. But as the dis- 
position to criticise, and to be disgusted, is, perhaps, taken up 
originally by imitation, and is, unawares, grown into a habit, 
which, though at present strong, may nevertheless be cured, 
when those who have it are convinced of its bad effects on 
their felicity; I hope this little admonition may be of service 
to them, and put them on changing a habit, which, though 
in the exercise it is chiefly an act of imagination, yet has 



224 

serious consequences in life, as it brings on real griefs and 
misfortunes. 

5 For, as many are offended by, and nobody loves this sort 
of people ; no one shows them more than the most common 
civility and respect, and scarcely that ; and this frequently 
puts them dut of humor, and draws them into disputes and 
contentions. If they aim at obtaining some advantage in 
rank or fortune, nobody wishes them success, or will stir a 
step, or speak a word to favor their pretensions. 

6 If they incur public censure or disgrace, no one will de- 
fend or excuse, and many join to aggravate their misconduct, 
and render them completely odious : If these people will not 
change this bad habit, and condescend to be pleased with what 
is pleasing, without fretting themselves and others about the 
contraries, it is good for others to avoid an acquaintance with 
them ; which is always disagreeable, and sometimes very in- 
convenient, especially w r hen one finds one's self entangled in 
their quarrels. 

7 An old philosophical friend of mine was grown, from ex- 
perience, very cautious in this particular, and carefully avoid- 
ed any intimacy with such people. He had, like other phi- 
losophers, a thermometer to show him the heat of the weather; 
and a barometer, to mark when it was likely to prove good 
or bad; but there being no instrument invented to discover, 
at first sight, this unpleasing disposition in a person, he, for 
that purpose, made use of his legs; one of which was remark- 
ably handsome, the other, by some accident, crooked and de- 
formed. If a stranger, at the first interview, regarded his 
ugly teg more than his handsome one, he doubted him. 

8 If he spoke of it, and took no notice of the handsome leg, 
that was sufficient to determine my philosopher to have no 
further acquaintance with him. Every body has not this two- 
legged instrument; but every one, with a little attention, may 
observe signs of that carping, fault-finding disposition, and 
take the same resolution of avoiding the acquaintance of those 
infected with it. I therefore advise those critical, querulous, 
discontented, unhappy people, that if they wish to be respect- 
ed and beloved by others, and happy in themselves, they 
should leave off looking at the ugly leg. 

SECTION II. 
The art of procuring pleasant dreams, inscribed to 

Miss ***, being written at her request. 
1 As a great part of our life is spent in sleep, durit : "h 






225 

we have sometimes pleasing and sometimes painful dreams, 
it becomes of some consequence to obtain the one kind, and 
avoid the other: for, whether real or imaginary, pain is pain, 
and pleasure is pleasure. If we can sleep without dreaming, 
it is well that painful dreams are avoided. If, while we sleep, 
we can have any pleasing dreams, it is, as the French say, 
tant gagne, so much added to the pleasure of life. 

2 To this end it is, in the first place, necessary to be care- 
ful in preserving health, by due exercise and great tempe- 
rance; for, in sickness, the imagination is disturbed ; and dis- 
agreeable, sometimes terrible, ideas are apt to present them- 
selves. Exercise should precede meals, not immediately fol- 
low them ; the first promotes, the latter, unless moderate, 
obstructs digestion. If, after exercise, we feed sparingly, the 
digestion will be easy and good, the body lightsome, the 
temper cheerful, and all the animal functions performed agree- 
ably. Sleep, when it follows, will be natural and undisturbed. 

3 While indolence, with full feeding, occasion nightmares 
and horrors inexpressible: we fall from precipices, are as- 
saulted by wild beasts, murderers and demons, and experi- 
ence every variety of distress. Observe, however, that the 
quantities of food and exercise are relative things : those who 
move much, may, and indeed ought to eat more; those who 
use little exercise, should eat little. In general, mankind, 
since the improvement of cookery, eat about twice as much 
as nature requires. 

4 Suppers are not bad, if we have not dined; but restless 
nights naturally follow hearty suppers, after full dinners. 
Indeed, as there is a difference in constitutions, some rest 
well after these meals; it costs them only a frightful dream, 
and an apoplexy, after which they sleep till doomsday. 
Nothing is more common in the newspapers, than instances 
of people, who, after eating a hearty supper, are found dead 
a-bed in the morning.* 

5 Another means of preserving health, to be attended to, 
is the having a constant supply of fresh air in your bed-cham- 
ber. It has been a great mistake, the sleeping in rooms ex- 
actly closed, and in beds surrounded by curtains. No out- 
ward air, that may come unto you, is so unwholesome as the 
unchanged air, often breathed, of a close chamber. As boil- 
ing water does not grow hotter by longer boiling, if the parti- 

* The use of animal food ought to be avoided as much as possible for 
suppers, not only to prevent incubus, [nightmare] and laborious dreams, 
but also for the preservation of health. 



226 

cles that receive greater heat can escape ; so living bodies do 
not putrefy, if the particles as fast as they become putrid, can 
be thrown off. 

6 Nature expels them by the pores of the skin and lungs, 
and in a free open air, they are carried off; but in a close 
room, we receive them again and again, though they become 
more and more corrupt. * A number of persons crowded into 
a small room, thus spoil the air in a few minutes, and even 
render it mortal, as in the Black Hole at Calcutta. A single 
person is said to spoil only a gallon of air per minute, and 
therefore requires a longer time to spoil a chamber full; but 
it is done, however, in proportion, and many putrtd disorders 
hence have their origin. 

7 Physicians, after having for ages contended that the sick 
should not be indulged with fresh air, have at length discov- 
ered that it may do them good. It is therefore to be hoped, 
that they may in time discover, likewise, that it is not hurtful 
to those who are in health ; and that we may be then cured 
of the aerophobia, [dread of air] that at present distresses 
weak minds, and makes them choose to be stifled and poison- 
ed, rather than leave open the windows of a bed-chamber, or 
put down the glass of a coach. 

8 Confined air, when saturated with perspirable matter, t 
will not receive more ; and that matter must remain in our 
bodies, and occasion diseases : but it gives some previous no- 
tice of its being about to be hurtful, by producing certain un- 
easiness, slight indeed, at first, such as, with regard to the 
lungs, is a trifling sensation, and to the pores of the skin a kind 
of restlessness which is difficult to describe, and few that 
feel it know the cause of it. 

9 The remedies, preventive and curative, follow : 1st. 
By eating moderately (as before advised for health's sake) 

* The air of rooms, in which several persons are breathing and perspir- 
ing", ought to be frequently renewed. 

1 " It is not air, 

That from a thousand lungs, reeks back to thine, 
Sated with exhalations fell and sad." — Armstrong* 
Close iron stoves emit a noxious effluvia, and are very pernicious to 
health in close rooms. If iron stoves, therefore, must be used, they ought 
to be the genuine Franklin stoves, which admit a perpetual current of fresh 
air into the room : — churches, school-houses, and all buildings occupied 
by many persons,ought to be furnished with perpetual ventilators. — Comp. 
f What physicians call the perspirable matter, is that vapor which passes 
off from our bodies, from the lungs, and through the pores of the skin. 
The quantity of this is said to be five-eighths of what we eat. 



227 
less perspirable matter is produced in a given time; hence 
the bed-clothes receive it longer, before they are saturated ; 
and we may, therefore, sleep longer, before we are made un- 
easy by their refusing to receive any more. 2d. By using 
thinner and more porous bed-clothes, which will suffer the 
perspirable matter more easily to pass through them, we are 
less incommoded, such being longer tolerable. 

10 These are the rules of the art. But though they will 
generally prove effectual in producing the end intended, there 
is a case in which the most punctual observance of them will 
be totally fruitless. I need not mention the case to you, my 
dear friend : but my account of the art would be imperfect 
without it. The case is, when the person who desires to have 
pleasant dreams has not taken care to preserve, what is neces- 
sary above all things, A GOOD CONSCIENCE. 



SECTION III. 

TO BENJAMIN VAUGHAN, ESQ. 

Oil luxury, idleness and industry. 

1 If there be a nation that exports its beef and linen to 
pay for the importation of claret and porter, while a great 
part of its people live upon potatoes, and wear no shirts, 
wherein does it differ from the sot, who lets his family starve, 
and sells his clothes to buy drink? Our American commerce 
is, I confess, a little in this way. We sell our victuals to the 
Islands for rum and sugar; the substantial necessaries of life 
for superfluities. 

2 Foreign luxuries, and needless manufactures, imported 
and used in a nation, increase the people of the nation that 
furnishes them, and diminish the people of the nation that 
use th&m. Laws, therefore, that prevent such importations, 
and, on the contrary, promote the exportation of manufac- 
tures to be consumed in foreign countries, increase the w r ealth, 
population, and means of subsistence of the people that make 
them, and produce the contrary effect upon their neighbors. 

3 It has been computed by some political arithmetician, 
that if every man and woman would work for four hours each 
day on something useful, that labor w T ould produce sufficient 
to procure all the necessaries and comforts of life, want and 
misery would be banished out of the world, and the rest of 
the tw^enty-four hours might be leisure and pleasure. 

4 What occasions then so much want and misery? It is 
the employment of men and women in works that produce 



22S v 
neither the necessaries nor conveniences of life, who, with 
those who do nothing, consume necessaries raised by the la- 
borious. To explain this, 

5 The first elements of wealth are obtained by labor, 
from the earth and waters. I have land, and can raise corn. 
With this, if I feed a family that does nothing, my corn will 
be consumed, and at the end of the year I shall be no richer 
than I was at the beginning. But, if while I feed them, I 
employ them, some in spinning, others in making bricks, &c. 
for building, the value of my corn will be arrested, and re- 
main with me, and at the end of the year we may all be bet- 
ter clothed and better lodged. 

6 And if instead of employing a man I feed in making 
bricks, I employ him in fiddling for me, the corn he eats is 
gone, and no part of his manufacture remains to augment the 
wealth and convenience of the family. Look round the world 
and see the millions employed in doing nothing, or some- 
thing that amounts to nothing, when the necessaries and con- 
veniences of life are in question. 

7 A question may be asked; Could all these people now 
employed in raising, making, or carrying superfluities, be 
subsisted by raising necessaries ? I think they might. The 
world is large, and a great part uncultivated. Many hun- 
dred millions of acres in Asia, Africa, and America, are still 
in a forest, and a great deal even in Europe. On a hundred 
acres of this forest, a man might become a substantial farmer. 

8 One reflection more, and I will end this long rambling 
letter. Almost all parts of our bodies require some expense. 
The feet demand shoes; the legs stockings; the rest of the 
body clothing; and the stomach a good deal of victuals. Our. 
eyes, though exceedingly useful, ask, when reasonable, only the 
cheap assistance of spectacles, which could not much impair 
our finances. But the eyes of other people are the eyes that 
ruin us. If all but myself were blind, I should want neither 
fine clothes, fine houses, nor fine furniture. 



SECTION IV. 

Extracts of a letter from Dr. Franklin, to the Rev, 

George Whitefield.* 

$ir 9 Philadelphia, June 6, 1753. 

1 I received your kind letter of the 2d instant, and am 

glad to hear that you increase in strength; I hope you will 

* Que of the founders of the religious Society of Methodists. 



22'J 
continue mending, till you recover your former health and 
firmness. Let me know whether you still use the cold bath, 
and what effect it has. 

2 As to the kindness you mention, I wish it could have 
been of more service to you. But if it had, the only thanks 
I should desire is, that you would always be equally ready to 
serve any other person that may need your assistance, and so 
let good offices go round; for mankind are all of a family. 

3 For my own part, when I am employed in serving others, 
I do not look upon myself as conferring favors, but as paying 
debts. In my travels, and since my settlement, I have re- 
ceived much kindness from men, to whom I shall never have 
any opportunity of making the least direct return; and num- 
berless mercies from God, who is infinitely above being 
benefited by our services. 

4 Those kindnesses from men, I can therefore return only 
on their fellow men, and I can only show my gratitude for 
these mercies from God, by a readiness to' help his other 
children, and my brethren. For I do not think that thanks 
and compliments, though repeated weekly, can discharge 
our real obligations to each other, and much less those to our 
Creator. 

5 The faith you mention has certainly its use in the world: 
I do not desire to see it diminished, nor would I endeavor 
to lessen it in any man. But I wish it were more productive 
of good works than I have generally seen it; works of kind- 
ness, charity, mercy, public spirit; not holiday-keeping, ser- 
mon-reading or hearing; performing church ceremonies, or 
making long prayers. 

6 The worship of God is a duty; the hearing and reading 
of sermons may be useful; but if men rest in hearing and 
praying, as too many do, it is as if a tree should value itself 
on being watered and putting forth leaves, though it never 

produced any fruit. 

I _____________ — — ^^— ____—. _-_____________________«________«___._«_«_»«=____= 

[Note. — The preceding selections from the works of Dr. Franklin, have been 
principally transcribed, for republication in the Moral Instructor, from " Memoirs 
of the Life and Writings of Benjamin Franklin, L.L.D. 4*c." with the consent of 
the Proprietor of the copyright. It will be perceived by the reader who is acquainted 
with the biography of the public as well as private life of Franklin, that his narra- 
tive, as published in this work, is extended only to the commencement of his public 
career. A mere outline or profile of his vast political and philosophical services to 
his country and to mankind would be impracticable in a work according with the 
title and intention of this. It is the view of the compiler to exhibit to the American 
youth, examples for their contemplation and imitation in the scene of general, do- 
mestic, and common life, and common sense, rather than of those public pursuits, 
stations, and distinctions which but a limited number of us can attain to, were we 
all equally qualified and competent with a Franklin, a Washington, or a Jeffeison.l 
U 



230 

PART SEVENTH. 

MISCELLANEOUS ARTICLES. 

CHAPTER 1. 

SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON^ FAREWELL ADDRESS. 

1 The following disinterested parting advice of the late 
President Washington, the master-workman in the erection 
of our Republic, ought to be deeply impressed on the mind 
of every American youth : 

2 In looking forward to the moment which is to terminate 
the career of my political life, my feelings do not permit me 
to suspend the deep acknowledgment of that debt of grati- 
tude which I owe to my beloved country, for the many 
honors it has conferred upon me; still more for the stedfast 
confidence with which it has supported me ; and for opportu- 
nities I have thence enjoyed of manifesting my inviolable at- 
tachment, by services faithful and persevering, though in use- 
fulness unequal to my zeal. 

3 If benefits have resulted to our country from these ser- 
vices, let it always be remembered to your praise, and as an 
instructive example in our annals, that under circumstances 
in which the passions, agitated in every direction, were liable 
to mislead — amidst appearances sometimes dubious — vicissi- 
tudes of fortune often discouraging — in situations in which 
not unfrequently want of success has countenanced the spi- 
rit of criticism — the constancy of your support was the essen- 
tial prop of the efforts and a guarantee of the plans by which 
they were effected. 

4 Profoundly penetrated with this idea, I shall carry it 
with me to my grave, as a strong incitement to unceasing 
wishes, that Heaven may continue to you the choicest tokens 
of its beneficence — that your union and brotherly affection 
may be perpetual — that the free constitution which is the 
work of your hands, may be sacredly maintained — that its 
administration in every department may be stamped with wis- 
dom and virtue — that, in fine, the happiness of the people of 
these States, under the auspices of liberty, may be made com- 
plete, by so careful a preservation and so prudent a use ol 
this blessing, a$ will acquire to them the glory of recommend 



231 
ing it to the applause, the affection, and the adoption of every 
nation which is yet a stranger to it 

5 Here, perhaps, I ought to stop. But a solicitude for 
your welfare, which cannot end but with my life, and the ap- 
prehension of danger natural to that solicitude, urge me, on 
an occasion like the present, to offer to your solemn contem- 
plation, and to recommend to your frequent review, some sen- 
timents, which are the result of much reflection, of no incon- 
siderable observation, and which appear to me all-important 
*o the permanency of your felicity &s a people. 

6 These will be offered to you with the more freedom, a 5 ? 
you can only see in them the disinterested warnings of a 
parting friend, who can possibly have no personal motive to 
bias his counsel. Nor can I forget as an encouragement to 
it, your indulgent reception of my sentiments on a former 
and not dissimilar occasion. 

7 Interwoven as is the love of liberty with every ligament 
of your hearts, no recommendation of mine is necessary to 
fortify or confirm the attachment. The unity of government, 
which constitutes you one people, is also now dear to you. It is 
justly so; for it is a main pillar in the edifice of your real in- 
dependence ; the support of your tranquillity at home; your 
peace abroad; of your safety, of your prosperity; of that 
very liberty which you so highly prize. 

8 But as it is easy to foresee, that from different causes 
and from different quarters, much pains will be taken, many 
artifices employed, to weaken in your minds the conviction 
of this truth : as this is the point in your political fortress 
against which the batteries of internal and external enemies 
will be most constantly and actively (though often covertly 
and insidiously) directed, it is of infinite moment, that you 
should properly estimate the immense value of your national 
union, to your collective and individual happiness ; 

9 That you should cherish a cordial, habitual, and immove- 
able attachment to it; accustoming yourselves to think and 
speak of it as of the palladium of your political safety and 
prosperity; watching for its preservation with jealous anxiety; 
discountenancing whatever may suggest even a suspicion that 
it can in any event be abandoned; and indignantly frown- 
ing upon the first dawning of every attempt to alienate any 
portion of our country from the rest, or to enfeeble the sacred 
ties which now link together the various parts. 

10 For this you have every inducement of sympathy and 
interest. Citizens by birth or choice of a common country, 



232 

that country has a right to concentrate your affections. The 
name of American, which belongs to you in your national 
capacity, must always exalt the just pride of patriotism, more 
than any appellation derived from local discriminations. 

11 With slight shades of difference, you have the same 
religion, manners, habits, and political principles. You have 
in a common cause fought and triumphed together; the inde- 
pendence and liberty you possess, are the work of joint coun- 
cils, and joint efforts — of common dangers, sufferings, and 
successes. 

12 The basis of our political systems is the right of the 
people to make and to alter their constitutions of government. 
But the constitution which at any time exists, until changed 
by an explicit and authentic act of the whole people, is 
sacredly obligatory upon all. The very idea of the power 
and the right of the people to establish a government, pre- 
supposes the duty of every individual to obey the established 
government. 

13 1 have already intimated to you the danger of parties 
in the state, with particular references to the founding of 
them on geographical discriminations. Let me now take a 
more comprehensive view, and warn you in the most solemn 
manner, against the baneful effects of the spirit of party, 
generally. 

14 This spirit, unfortunately, is inseparable from our nature, 
having its root in the strongest passions of the human mind. 
It exists under different shapes in all governments, more or 
less stifled, controlled, or repressed ; but in those of the 
popular form, it is seen in its greatest ranknese, and is truly 
their worst enemy. 

15 The alternate domination of one faction over another, 
sharpened by the spirit of revenge natural to party dissension, 
which in different ages and countries has perpetrated the most 
horrid enormities, is itself a frightful despotism. But this 
leads at length to a more formal and permanent despotism. 

16 The disorders and miseries which result, gradually in- 
cline the minds of men to seek security and repose in the 
absolute power of an individual ; and sooner or later the 
chief of some prevailing faction, more able or more fortu- 
nate than his competitors, turns this disposition to the pur- 
poses of his own elevation, on the ruins of public liberty. 

17 Without looking forward to an extremity of this kind, 
(which nevertheless ought not to be entirely out of sight,) the 
common and continual mischiefs of the spirit of party, are 



233 

sufficient to make it the interest and duty of a wise people 
to discourage and restrain it. 

IS Of all the dispositions and habits which lead to political 
prosperity, religion and morality are indispensable supports. 
In vain would that man claim the tribute of patriotism, who 
should labor to subvert these great pillars of human happi- 
ness — these firmest props of the duties of men and citizens. 
The mere politician, equally with the pious man, ought to 
respect and to cherish them. A volume could not trace all 
their connexions with private and public felicity. 

1 9 Let it simply be asked, where is the security for prop- 
erty, for reputation, for life, if the sense of religious obliga- 
tion desert the oaths, which are the instruments of investiga- 
tion in courts of justice ? And let us with caution indulge the 
supposition, that morality can be maintained without religion. 
Whatever may be conceded to the influence of refined edu- 
cation on minds fS peculiar structure, reason and experience 
both forbid us to expect that national morality can prevail in 
exclusion of religious principles. 

20 It is substantially true, that virtue or morality is a 
necessary spring of popular government. The rule indeed 
extends with more or less force to every species of free 
government. Who that is a sincere friend to it can look with 
indifference upon attempts to shake the foundation of the 
fabric ? 

21 Promote, then, as an object of primary importance, in- 
stitutions for the general diffusion of knowledge. In propor- 
tion as the structure of a government gives force to public 
opinion, it is essential that public opinion should be enlight- 
ened. ^ 

22 Observe good faith and justice towards all nations; cul- 
tivate peace and harmony with all: religion and morality en- 
join this conduct; and can it be that good policy does not 
equally enjoin it ? It will be worthy of a free, enlightened, 
and, at no distant period, a great nation, to give to mankind the 
magnanimous and too novel example of a people always 
guided by an exalted justice and benevolence. 

23 Who can doubt that in the course of time and things, 
the fruits of such a plan would richly repay any temporary 
advantages which might be lost by a steady adherence to it? 
Can it be, that Providence has not connected the permanent 
felicity of a nation with its virtue? The experiment, at least, 
is recommended by every sentiment which ennobles human 
nature. Alas ! is it rendered impossible by its vices ? 

U2# 



234 

24 In the execution of such a plan, nothing is more es 
tial than that permanent and inveterate antipathies against 
particular nations, and passionate attachments for others, 
should be excluded; and that, in place of them, just and ami- 
cable feelings towards all should be. cultivated. 

25 In offering to you, my countrymen, these counsels of an 
old and affectionate friend, I dare not hope they will make 
the strong and lasting impression I could wish — that they 
will control the usual current of the passions, or prevent our 
nation from running the course which has hitherto marked 
the destiny of nations. 

26 But if I may even flatter myself, that they may be pro- 
ductive of some-partial benefit, some occasional good; that 
they may now and then recur to moderate the fury of party 
spirit; to warn against the mischiefs of foreign intrigue; to 
guard against the impostures of pretended patriotism ; this 
hope will be a full recompense for the solicitude for your 
welfare, by which they have been dictated. 



CHAPTER 2. 

EXERCISE, PUBLIC EDUCATION, TEMPERANCE, HEALTH, &G. 
SECTION I. 

Sunday schools: education of the poor: books. 

1 It might appear a paradox in politics, if we were not 
daily accustomed to absurdities, that Sunday schools have 
been discountenanced because they have a tendency to cause 
people to think, and expose them to the risk of reading in- 
cendiary publications. People who reason after this man- 
ner may be divided into two classes. 

2 The first would confine all knowledge within the facti- 
tious arrangements of fortune, and consequently, would make 
fortune only the test of moral obligation, and of ability. 
The second, actuated by milder sentiments, although by 
timorous motives, are apprehensive of evils arising from the 
abuse of the principle. 

3 Their opinions, therefore, are to be respected, w r hile the 
former merit contempt and abhorrence. Wise and virtuous 
magistrates would rather govern thinking men, than mechan- 
ical brutes; but knaves prefer legislating for fools. Their 
sentiments are worthy of a Turkish Cadi, and of the meridian 
of Constantinople, but destructive of the happiness of a free 
community. 



235 

4 If knowledge be- a pernicious acquisition, it is evidently 
more dangerous in the hands of those who possess the gifts 
of fortune, and thereby power, than in the hands of the com- 
monalty, who are deprived of those accursed resources by 
which the fountains of honor, justice, and freedom have been 
often corrupted and poisoned. 

5 If on the contrary, its efforts be beneficial, who will 
presume to limit its circulation? The law of England declares 
that iguorantia legis non excuset; [The ignorance of the law 
will not avail the delinquent,] this is the principle of all free 
governments. In what manner therefore we can reconcile 
the commission of a crime, and its punishment with utter ig- 
norance, I leave to the explication of those political sophists, 
who delight to make a mystery of government, and to con- 
found the plainest principles of common sense and justice. 

6 It cannot be denied, that a disposition to obtain know- 
ledge is common to all, and that talents display themselves 
to a very high degree among the unlettered parts of the com- 
munity. Poverty is no more an evidence of incapacity, than 
wealth is, of capacity for knowledge; for many a Cicero has 
kept sheep, many a Caesar followed the plow, and many 
a Virgil foddered cattle. — York. — Nicholson's Literary 
Miscellany. 

7 It is a truth which cannot be too strongly impressed, 
that of all our exertions for the benefit of our fellow-creatures, 
the education of the poor is the most efficacious: it invigorates 
the body politic, and forms and prepares, from every class of 
society, useful and active members, to fill the most important 
duties and stations of life. — Moir. — Ibid. 

8 Ignorance is the bane of society ; it is the greatest foe 
against which a nation has to contend — destroy its reign, and 
a tyrant falls. Who is the midnight murderer? Who are the 
disturbers of the peace ! Are they the well-instructed ? 
Against whom is the strong hand of the magistrate uplifted ? 
against the man who knows his duty ? No; but against him 
whom ignorance has made brutish. 

9 Where is the person that will plead for ignorance as for 
virtue? Who will say that she is the mother of devotion; or 
the source of subordination ? She is the mother of no good 
thing. Bigotry and superstition are her offspring. She is 
the parent of cruelty, and the nurse of crimes. 

10 Read, in the history of the world, the effects of igno- 
rance. The wandering Arab, the fierce and barbarous Indian, 
are what they are from ignorance. England, when barbarous, 



236 

was the abode of misery : every man's hand was lifted against 
his neighbor. 

11 That crimes diminish in proportion to the cultivation 
of knowledge, has been already urged ; in addition to the 
proofs before adduced, " In one of the protestant Cantons of 
Switzerland, the people were so well instructed that the ex- 
ecutioner was called upon to perform his hateful office but 
once in the long space of twenty years ! Such are some of 
the fruits of knowledge, which ripen into an immediate har- 
vest, and amply repay the cultivator." — Report of the Com- 
mittee of the " Stockpo7*t Sunday School." — Dr. Pole. 

12 Happy are they, who, being disgusted with all violent 
pleasures, know how to content themselves with the sweets 
of an innocent life. Happy are they, who are diverted at the 
same time that they are instructed, and please themselves by 
enriching their minds with knowledge. 

13 Wherever they may be thrown by adverse fortune, 
they carry their own entertainment with them; and the un- 
easiness which preys on others, even in the midst of their 
pleasures is unknow r n to those who can employ themselves in 
reading. Happy are they who love books, and are not de- 
prived of them ! Telem. book ii. 

14 Imagine that we had it in our power to call up the 
shades of the greatest and wisest men that ever existed, and 
oblige them to converse with us on the most interesting 
topics ; what an inestimable privilege should we think it ! how 
superior to all common enjoyments ! But in a well furnished 
library, we, in fact, possess this power. 

15 We can question Xenophon and Caesar on their cam- 
paigns ; make Demosthenes and Cicero plead before us; join 
in the audiences of Socrates and Plato; and receive demon- 
strations from Euclid and Newton. In books we have the 
choicest thoughts of the ablest men, in their best dress. We 
can, at pleasure, exclude dulness and impertinence; and open 
our doors to wit and good sense alone. 

16 Without books, I have never been able to pass a single 
day to my entire satisfaction: with them, no day has been so 
dark as not to have its pleasures. Even pain and sickness 
have for a time been charmed away by them. By the easy 
provision of a book in my pocket, I have frequently worn 
through long nights and days, in the most disagreeable parts 
of my profession, with all the difference in my feelings be- 
tween calm content and fretful impatience. — Dr. •ftikin's 
Letters from a Father to a Son. 



.237 

SECTION II. 
Labor and exercise indispensable for health. 
Pray for a sound mind in a sound body. — Juvenal. 

1 Bodily labor is of two kinds, either that which a man 
submits to for his livelihood; or that which he undergoes for 
his pleasure. The latter of them generally changes the name 
of labor for that of exercise, but differs only from ordinary 
labor as it rises from another motive. A country life abounds 
in both these kinds of labor, and for that reason gives a man 
a greater stock of health, and consequently a more perfect 
enjoyment of himself, than any other way of life. 

2 I consider the body as a system of tubes and glands, or 
to use a more rustic phrase, a bundle of pipes and strainers, 
fitted to one another after so w r onderful a manner, as to make 
a proper engine for the soul to work with. This description 
does not only comprehend the bowels, bones, tendons, veins, 
nerves, and arteries, but every muscle and every ligature, 
which is a composition of fibres, that are so many impercep- 
tible tubes or pipes interwoven on all sides with invisible 
glands or strainers. 

3 This general idea of a human body, without considering 
it in its niceties of anatomy, let us see how absolutely ne- 
cessary labor is for the right preservation of it. There must 
be frequent motions and agitations, to mix, digest, and sepa- 
rate the juices contained in it, as well as to clear and cleanse 
that infinitude of pipes and Strainers of which it is composed, 
and to give their solid parts a more firm and lasting tone. 
Labor or exercise ferments the humors, casts them into their 
proper channels, throws off redundancies, and helps nature 
in those secret distributions, without which the body cannot 
subsist in its vigor, nor the soul act with cheerfulness. 

4 I might here mention the effects which this has upon m all 
the faculties of the mind, by keeping the understanding clear, 
the imagination untroubled, and refining those spirits that 
are necessary for the proper exertion of our intellectual facul- 
ties, during the present laws of union between soul and body. 
It is to a neglect in this particular that we must ascribe the 
spleen, which is so frequent in men of studious and seden- 
tary tempers, as well as the vapors to which those of the 
other sex are so often subject. 

5 Had not exercise been so absolutely necessary for our 
well being, nature would not have made the body so proper 
for it, by giving such an activity to the limbs, and such a pli- 



238 
ancy to every part, as necessarily produce those compres- 
sions, extensions, contortions, dilations, and all other kinds 
of motions that are necessary for the preservation of such a 
system of tubes and glands as has been before mentioned. 

6 And that we might not want inducements to engage us 
in such an exercise of the body as is proper for its welfare, it 
is so ordered, that nothing valuable can be procured without 
it. Not to mention riches and honor, even food and raiment 
are not to be come at without the toil of the hands and sweat 
of the brows. 

7 Providence furnishes materials, but expects that we 
should work them up ourselves. The earth must be labored 
before it gives its increase, and when it is forced into its seve- 
ral products, how many hands must they pass through be- 
fore they are fit for use ? Manufactures, trade, and agricul- 
ture, naturally employ more than nineteen parts of the spe- 
cies in twenty; and as for those who are not obliged to labor, 
by the condition in which they ^re born, they are more mis- 
erable than the rest of mankind, unless they indulge them- 
selves in that voluntary labor which goes by the name of ex- 
ercise. 

8 There is no kind of exercise which I would so recom- 
mend to my readers of both sexes as that of riding, as there 
is none which so much conduces to health, and is every way 
accommodated to the body, according to the idea which I 
have given of it. Dr. Sydenham is very lavish in its praises; 
and if the English reader will see the mechanical effects of it 
described at length, he may find them in a book published not 
many years since, under the title of Medicina Gymnastica. 

9 For my own part when I am in town, for want of these 
opportunities, I exercise myself an hour every morning upon 
a dumb bell that is placed in a corner of my room, and pleases 
me the more because it does every thing I require in the most 
profound silence. My landlady and her daughters are so 
well acquainted with my hours of exercise, that they never 
come into my room to disturb me while I am ringing. 

10 To conclude, as I am a compound of soul and body, I 
consider myself as obliged to a double scheme of duties; and I 
think I have not fulfilled the business of the day when I do 
not thus employ the one in labor and exercise, as well as the 
other in study and contemplation. 

Spectator, No. 115. — Jlddison, 



239 

SECTION III. 
Exercise and temperance preserve health and prolong life. 

Fools not to know that half exceeds the whole, 

How blest the sparing meal and frugal bowl. — Hesiod. 

1 There is a story in the Arabian Nights' Tales, of a king 
who had long languished under an ill habit of body, and had 
taken abundance of remedies to no purpose. At length, says 
the fable, a physician cured him by the following method: he 
took a hollow ball of wood, and filled it with several drugs ; 
after which he closed it up so artificially that nothing appear- 
ed. He likewise took a mall, and after having hollowed the 
handle, and that part which strikes the ball, enclosed in them 
several drugs after the same manner as in the ball itself. 

2 He then ordered the sultan, who w r as his patient, to ex- 
ercise himself early in the morning with these rightly pre- 
pared instruments, till such time as he should sweat; when, as 
the story goes, the virtue of the medicaments perspiring 
through the wood, had so good an influence on the sultan's 
constitution, that they cured him of an indisposition which 
all the compositions he had taken inwardly had not been able 
to remove. 

3 This eastern allegory is finely contrived to show us how 
beneficial bodily labor is to health, and that exercise is the 
most effectual physic. I have described in my hundred and 
fifteenth paper, from the general structure and mechanism of 
a human body, how absolutely necessary exercise is for its 
preservation ; I shall in this place recommend another great 
preservative of health, which in many cases produces the same 
effects as exercise, and may, in some measure, supply its, 
place, where opportunities of exercise are wanting. 

4 The preservative I am speaking of is Temperance, which 
has those particular advantages above all other means of 
health, that it may be practised by all ranks and conditions, 
at any season, or in any place. It is a kind of regimen into 
which every man may put himself without interruption to 
business, expense of money, or loss of time. 

5 If exercise throws off all superfluities, temperance pre- 
vents them : if exercise raises proper ferments in the humors, 
and promotes the circulation of the blood, temperance gives 
nature her full play, and enables her to exert herself in all her 
force and vigor: if exercise dissipates a growing distemper, 
temperance starves it. 

6 Physic, for the most part, is nothing else but the substi- 



240 

tute of exercise or temperance. Medicines are indeed abso- 
lutely necessary in acute distempers ; that cannot wait the 
slow operations of these two great instruments of health: but 
did men live in a habitual course of exercise and temper- 
ance, there / would be but little occasion for them. Accord- 
ingly we find that those parts of the world are the most 
healthy, w^here they subsist by the chase; and that men lived 
longest when their lives were employed in hunting, and w r hen 
they had little food besides what they caught. 

7 Blistering, cupping, bleeding, are seldom of use to any 
but to the idle and intemperate ; as all those inward applica- 
tions, which are so much in practice among us, are, for the 
most part, nothing else but expedients to make luxury con- 
sistent with health. The*apothecary is perpetually employed 
in countermining the cook and the vintner. It is said of 
Diogenes, that meeting a young man who was going to a feast, 
he took him up in the street, and carried him home to his 
friends, as one who was running into imminent danger, had 
he not prevented him. 

8 What would that philosopher have said, had he been pre- 
sent at the gluttony of a modern meal ? Would not he have 
thought the master of a family mad, and had begged his servant 
to tie down his hands, had he seen him devour fowl, fish, and 
flesh; swallow oil and vinegar, wines and spices; throw down 
salads of twenty different herbs, sauces of a hundred ingredi- 
ents, confections and fruits of numberless sweets and flavors. 

9 What unnatural motions and counter-ferments must such 
a medley of intemperance produce in the body! For my part, 
when I behold a fashionable table set out in all its magnifi- 
cence, I fancy that I see gouts and dropsies, fevers and'lethar- 
gies, with other innumerable distempers, lying in ambuscade 
among the dishes. 

10 Nature delights in the most plain and simple diet. 
Every animal, but man, keeps to one dish. Herbs are the 
food of this species, fish of that, and flesh of a third. Man 
falls upon every thing that comes in his way; not the smallest 
fruit or excrescence of the earth, scarce a berry, or a mush- 
room, can escape him. 

11 It is impossible to lay down any determinate rule for 
temperance, because what is luxury in one may be temper- 
ance in another ; but there are few that have lived any time 
in the world, w r ho are not judges of their own constitutions, 
so far as to know what kinds and what proportions of food do 
best agree with them. 



241 

12 Were I to consider my readers as my patients, and to 
prescribe such a kind of temperance as is accommodated to 
all persons, and such as is particularly suitable to our climate 
and way of living, I would copy the following rules of a very 
eminent physician. Make your whole repast out of one dish. 
If you indulge in a second, avoid drinking any thing strong 
till you have finished your meal: at the same time abstain from 
all sauces, or at least such as are not the most plain and simple. 

13 It is observed by two or three ancient authors, that 
Socrates, notwithstanding he lived in Athens during that 
great plague, which has made so much noise through all ages, 
and has been celebrated at different times by such eminent 
hands; I say, notwithstanding that he lived- in the time of 
this devouring pestilence, he never caught the least infection, 
which those writers unanimously ascribe to that uninterrupt- 
ed temperance which he always observed. 

14 And here I cannot but mention an observation which I 
have often made, upon reading the lives of the philosophers, 
and comparing them with any series of kings or great men 
of the same number. If we consider these ancient sages, a 
great part of whose philosophy consisted in a temperate and 
abstemious course of life, one would think the life of a phi- 
losopher and the life of a man were of two different dates. 
For we find, that the generality of these w T ise men were nearer 
a hundred than sixty years of age at the time of their re- 
spective deaths. 

15 But the most remarkable instance of the efficacy of tem- 
perance towards the procuring of long life, is what we meet 
with in a little book published by Lewis Cornaro, the Vene- 
tian; which I the rather mention, because it is of undoubted 
credit, as the late Venetian ambassador, who was of the same 
family, attested more than once in conversation, when he 
resided in England. 

16 Cornaro, who was the author of the little treatise I am 
mentioning, was of an infirm constitution, till about forty, 
when, by obstinately persisting in an exact course of tem- 
perance, he recovered a perfect state of health; insomuch that 
at fourscore he published his book, which has been translated 
into English, under the title of Siwe and Certain Methods 
of attaining a Long and Healthy Life. 

17 He lived to give a third or fourth edition of it, and af- 
ter having passed his hundredth year, died without pain or 
agony, and like one who falls asleep. The treatise I men- 
tion has been taken notice of by several eminent authors, and 

X 



242 
is written with such a spirit of cheerfulness, religion, and 
good sense, as are the natural concomitants of temperance 
and sobriety. The mixture of the old man in it is rather & 
recommendation than a discredit to it. 

18 Having designed this paper as the sequel to that upon 
exercise, I have not here considered temperance as it is & 
moral virtue, which I shall make the subject of a future spec- 
ulation, but only as it is the means of health. 

Spectator, No. 195. — Addison. 

SECTION IV. 
Extracts from Dr. Belknap's address to the inhabitants 

of New-Hampshire, at the close of his history of that 

state. 
Citizens of New-Hampshire, 

1 Having spent above twenty years of my life with you, 
and past through various scenes of peace and w r ar within 
that time, being personally acquainted with many of you, both 
in your public and private characters; and having an earnest 
desire to promote your true interest, I trust you will not think 
me altogether unqualified to give you a few hints by way of 
advice. 

2 You are oertainly a rising state ; your numbers are rap- 
idly increasing; and your importance in the political scale 
will be augmented, in proportion to your improving the 
natural advantages which your situation affords you, and to 
your cultivating the intellectual and moral powers of your- 
selves and your children. 

3 The first article on which I would open my mind to you 
is that of education. Nature has been as bountiful to you as 
to any other people, in giving your children genius and ca- 
pacity; it is then your duty and your interest to cultivate 
their capacities, and render them serviceable to themselves 
and the community. 

4 It was the saying of a great orator and statesman of an- 
tiquity, that " the loss which the commonwealth sustains, by 
a want of education, is like the loss which the year would 
suffer by the destruction of the spring." 

5 If the bud be blasted, the tree will yield no fruit. If the 
springing corn be cut down, there will be no harvest. So if 
the youth be ruined through a fault in their education, the 
community sustains a loss which cannot be repaired; " for it 
is too late to correct them when they are spoiled." 

6. Notwithstanding the care of your legislators in enacting 



243 

laws and enforcing them by severe penalties; notwithstand 
ing the wise and liberal provisions which is made by some 
towns, and some private gentlemen in the state; yet there 
is still, in many places, " a great and criminal neglect of 
education." 

7 You are indeed a very considerable degree better, in this 
respect, than in the time of the late war; but yet much re- 
mains to be done. Great care ought to be taken, not only to 
provide a support for instructors of children and youth; but 
to be attentive in the choice of instructors; to see that they be 
men of good understanding, learning and morals; that they 
teach by their example as well as by their precepts; that they 
govern themselves and teach their pupils the art of self- 
government. 

8 Another source of improvement, ^vhich I beg leave to 
recommend, is the establishment of social libraries. This is 
the easiest, the cheapest and most effectual mode of diffusing 
knowledge among the people. For the sum of six or eight 
dollars at once, and a small annual payment besides, a man 
may be supplied with the means of literary improvement, 
during his life, and his children may inherit the blessing. 

9 A few neighbors joined together in setting up a library, 
and placing it under the care of some suitable person, with 
a very few regulations, to prevent carelessness and waste, 
may render the most essential service to themselves and to 
the community. 

10 Books may be much better preserved in this way, than 
if they belonged to individuals; and there is an advantage in 
the social intercourse of persons who have read tme 
books, by their conversing on the subjects which have occur- 
red in their reading, and communicating their observations 
one to another. 

1 1 From this mutual intercourse, another advantage may 
arise; for the persons who are thus associated may not only 
acquire, but originate knowledge. By studying nature ana 
the sciences ; by practising arts, agriculture and manufac- 
tures, at the same time that theyimprove their minds in read- 
ing, they may be led to discoveries and improvements, ori- 
ginal and beneficial; and being already formed into society, 
they may diffuse their knowledge, ripen their plans, correct 
their mistakes, and promote the cause of science and human- 
ity in a very considerable degree. 

12 The book of nature is always open to our view, and we 
may study it at our leisure. " 'Tis elder scripture, writ by 



244 

God's own hand." The earth, the air, the sea, the rivers, the 
mountains, the rocks, the caverns, the animal and vegetable 
tribes, are fraught with instruction. Nature is not half ex- 
plored: and in what is partly known there are many myste- 
ries, which time, observation and experience must unfold. 

13 Every social library, among other books, should be 
furnished with those of natural philosophy, botany, zoology, 
chymistry, husbandry, geography and astronomy: that in- 
quiring minds may be directed in their inquiries; that they 
may see what is known, and what still remains to be discov- 
ered; and that they may employ their leisure and their va- 
rious opportunities in endeavoring to add to the stock of 
science, and thus enrich the world with their observations 
and improvements. 

14 Suffer me to add a few words on the use of spirit ous 
liquor, that bane of society, that destroyer of health, morals 
and property. Nature indeed has furnished her vegetable 
productions with spirit; but she has so combined it with other 
substances, that unless her work be tortured by fire, the spirit 
is not separated, and cannot prove pernicious. Why should 
this force be put on nature, to make her yield a noxious 
draught, from materials which in their original state are salu- 
tary ? 

15 The juice of the apple, the fermentations of barley, and 
decoction of spruce, are amply sufficient for the refreshment 
of man, let his labor be ever so severe, and his perspiration 
ever so expensive. Our forefathers, for many years after the 
settlement of the country, knew not the use of distilled spirits. 

16 Malt was imported from England, and wine from the 
Western or Canary Islands, with which they were refreshed, 
before their own fields and orchards yielded them a supply. 
An expedition was once undertaken against a nation of In- 
dians, when there was but one pint of strong water (as it was 
then called) in the whole army, and that was reserved for the 
sick; yet no complaint was made for want of refreshment. 

17 Could we but return to the primitive manners of our 
ancestors, in this respect, we should be free from many of the 
disorders, both of body and mind, which are now experi- 
enced. The disuse of ardent spirits would also tend to abol- 
ish the infamous traffic of slaves, by whose labor this baneful 
material is procured. 

18 Were I to form a picture bf happy society, it would be 
a town consisting of a due mixture of hills, vallies, and 
streams of water. The land well fenced and cultivated; the 



245 

roads and bridges in good repair; a decent inn for the re- 
freshment of travellers, and for public entertainments. The 
inhabitants mostly husbandmen; their wives and daughters 
domestic manufacturers; a suitable proportion of handicraft 
workmen, and two or three traders; a physician and a law- 
yer, each of whom should have a farm for his support. 

\9 A clergyman, of good understanding, of a candid dis- 
position and exemplary morals; not a metaphysical, nor a 
polemic, but a serious and practical preacher. A schoolmas- 
ter who should understand his business, and teach his pupils 
to govern themselves. A social library, annually increasing, 
and under good regulation. 

20 A club of sensible men, seeking mutual improvement, 
a decent musical society. No intriguing politician, horse- 
jockey, gambler or sot; but all such characters treated with 
contempt. Such a situation may be considered as the most fa- 
vorable to social happiness of any which this world can afford. 

SECTION V. 

Dialogue between Mrs. Careless and Mrs. Friendly, upon 

female education. 

Mrs. Careless. Good morning, my dear Mrs. Friendly. I 
came to request your company in a walk; but I see you are 
engaged with a book; pray what is it ? 

Mrs. Friendly. It is a treatise on female education, which 
pleases me much, and will, with domestic avocations, deprive 
me of the pleasure of walking with you this morning. 

Mrs. Care. And what have you to do with treatises on 
education? I seldom read any thing, and never books of that 
kind. I should as soon think of plodding through a volume 
of old sermons. 

Mrs. Fr. I assure you I consider the education of youth, 
females in particular, to be a matter of the first importance; 
and I take great pleasure in reading the observations of inge- 
nious writers on the subject. I have children, in whose wel- 
fare, I need not tell you, I am deeply interested; and their 
happiness or misery, their honor or infamy, entirely depend, 
in my opinion, on the principles and habits they acquire in 
youth, whilst the mind is tender, and the voice of instruction 
sinks deep. 

Mrs. Care. But cannot children be educated, unless their 
parents read books on the subject ? 

Mrs. Fr. Certainly they can, if their parents are them- 
selves qualified for the task. But I find it a difficult and 
X2 



246 

delicate business, and therefore I have recourse to the wise 
and experienced for assistance in conducting it. 

Mrs. Care. The assistance of the dancing, music, and 
drawing master is all I require for my children. They shall 
indeed know something of reading, writing and needlework; 
but to give them a polite education, and make them accom- 
plished, is my aim. 

Mrs. Fr. I fear, my dear Mrs. Careless, you do not dis- 
tinguish the advantages, which arise from a useful rather than 
a polite education ; since you speak with so much indifFer 
ence of the former, and with such raptures of the latter. 

Mrs. Care. Pray what are the mighty advantages of edu- 
cating children in what you style a useful manner? I never 
yet saw them. 

Mrs. Fr. Then you are no very strict observer. (I beg 
your pardon for speaking thus freely.) But surely each day- 
brings instances of its advantages; and each day shows the 
mischief of a contrary mode. The kind of education I men- 
tion is that which tends to give females well regulated minds 
and agreeable manners ; and render them beloved, esteemed 
and admired. For it is by no means necessary in order to 
this, that a young lady should be mistress of all polite accom- 
plishments. They often belong to some of the most dis- 
gusting and insignificant of the sex. No, let parents form the 
growing mind to virtue, religion, and the calm pleasures of 
domestic life; at the same time endeavoring that cheerful- 
ness play round the heart, and innocent gaiety enliven the be- 
haviour. Let the habit of self government be early produced ; 
for all the world conspiring cannot make a woman happy 
who does not govern her passions. Let the first appearance 
of stubbornness in them be checked and resisted; and let 
them be taught cheerfully to deny themselves every object of 
desire, inconsistent with reason, prudence or virtue. Thus 
cultured, their tempers will be sweet and placid, and their 
manners gentle and engaging. If they are put under the care 
of tutors abroad, they will not be unteachable and refractory; 
and the presence of their parents will not be necessary to 
make them behave with discretion and propriety.* 

* Instruction is re-productive, ad infinitum; and the domestic station 
of females gives {hem the best opportunity of transmitting virtuous, senti- 
ments to future generations. The beautiful sentiment expressed in the 
following* extract from the letter of the Corresponding Secretary of the 
American Academy of Languages and Belles Letters, William S. Cardell, 
Esq. to Gov. Robertson, of Louisiana, deserves to be cordially cherished 



247 

Mrs. Care. Well, after their minds are thus taken care of, 
how would you have them further accomplished ? 

Mrs. Fr. They should be well versed in reading, writing, 
arithmetic, and English grammar. If their natural genius 
strongly led them to poetry, painting, or music, and easy 
fortune admitted, it should be indulged and cultivated, but 
by no means to such a degree as to interrupt or supersede 
domestic employments. For these require attention in a 
greater or less degree from every woman ; and unless she 
understand and discharge them according to her circumstan- 
ces, she is contemptible and useless. 

Mrs. Care. Fine accomplishments, truly ! a perfect skill 
in handling the broom and duster ! Mrs. Friendly, if you 
educate your children in this way, they will be ruined ; they 
will be strangers to the charms of dancing, dress and com- 
pany. The graces will never condescend to adorn those who 
are accustomed to the kitchen. 

Mrs. Fr. My friend, I have no objection to dancing, dress 
and company, when they form not the chief object of solici- 
tude and attention, and are cultivated merely as the recrea- 
tion and ornaments of life, and not as the business and end 
of it. Be assured, a well furnished mind, a well governed 
temper, love of domestic pleasures, and an inclination and 
capacity to pursue domestic employments, are the first requi- 
sites in a woman, and the foundation of her respectability 
and enjoyment. Without these, though her graceful mien 
and dancing charm every eye, and her music be sweeter than 
the harp of Orpheus, she must be unhappy in herself, and a 
vexation and torment to her friends. Let us view a person 
educated in the school of dissipation, and furnished with 
merely polite accomplishments. Engrossed by the desire of 
leading a life of amusement before she can even spell a sen- 
tence, and unfurnished with just sentiments and industrious 
habits, she is sent to the dancing academy that her manners 
may become graceful. Here she sees gayer dresses than her 
own, which inflame with vanity and envy her giddy, unoc- 
cupied mind. She is determined to be outdone by none in 
elegance. She disputes with mamma about fashions and fine 
clothes ; and if her extravagant desires are not indulged, 
murmurs and repines at her cruel fate ; becomes confirmed 

by every daughter of Columbia, as a more precious gem than any metal- 
lic or stony jewel that ever decorated the head or finger of a queen- 
44 We seldom fail of seeing a superior family of children, where an inteV= 
ligent and virtuous mother is tha teacher. w — Comp. 



248 

in the detestable habit of fretting ; and knows not content but 
by the name. A fondness for those phantoms which lure to 
ruin called pleasures, and a passion for show and parade, which 
perhaps through life she can never indulge, gain entire pos- 
/ session of her heart. All her joys are in gay parties and as- 
semblies, where, like the butterfly of summer, she pleases by 
the brilliance of her colors only ; which however, is no sooner 
familiar to the eye, than it is beheld with indifference ; yet 
alas! this is all the attraction which this child of vanity can 
boast. Maturer years steal on ; her mind is so uncultivated 
that she is incapable of the rational pleasures of thinking and 
conversation ; her love of dissipation and amusement grows 
with her growth ; she sighs for new pleasures, but alas! she 
has so often travelled the circle, that their novelty is destroy- 
ed. With all her apparent gaiety, she is probably more 
wretched than the miscreant who begs the morsel that sus- 
tains his being. If she be ever placed at the head of a family, 
she disgusts her husband, neglects her children, and order, 
peace and industry are strangers in her house. Her company 
is ever uninteresting or disagreeable, her name is synonymous 
with folly, and her memory is lost with her life. 

Mrs. Care. What a picture, my dear Mrs. Friendly, have 
you drawn! I turn from it with horror. I assure you^ my 
chief care shall be to form my children to reflection, self- 
government and industry; and they and I shall have reason to 
rejoice in the change you have made in my sentiments. 

Mrs. Fr. I rejoice to hear you express yourself in such a 
-manner. Believe me, when I say, the best fortune which 
can be bestowed on a child is a good education. It secures 
her honor and happiness through life, whatever be her station; 
and it leads her to the exercise of those noble and virtuous dis- 
positions which are an indispensable preparation for the en- 
joyments of the future state. — American Preceptor. 

SECTION VI. 

Extracts from the remarks of Mr. White, in Congress, on 
the 12 th of February 1823, on offering a resolution in 
favor of establishing a permanent increasing fund, 
from the sales of the public lands, for the promotion 
of education. 

MR. SPEAKER, 

1 Of all the subjtects worthy the consideration of a repub- 
lican government, education is of the first and highest im- 
portance. Education is to the republican body politic, w r hat 



249 

vital air is to the natural body, necessary to its very eoois- 
tence; without which, it would sicken, droop, and die. 

2 The republican institutions of this country are bottomed 
upon the virtue and intelligence of the people, and on the 
maintenance and preservation of that foundation, will their 
perpetuity depend. Let the great body of the people be well 
informed, and their moral character preserved, they will know 
and understand their rights and privileges ; a correct moral 
principle, will always prompt them to a faithful performance 
of civil and social duties, which will, inevitably, ensure the 
enjoyment of those rights and privileges. 

3 As a matter of policy, education is the first great na- 
tional interest, to which a republican government ought to 
lend their support. Keep the great body of the people vir- 
tuous and well informed, and the penal laws on your statute- 
book will, in a great measure, become obsolete and a dead 
letter ; corporeal punishment will scarcely be known in our 
land. It is certainly safer and easier, by the seasonable ad- 
ministration of gentle preventives, to ward off a disease from 
the natural body, than to be compelled to eradicate the dis- 
order when introduced and seated in the system. 

4 So with the body politic, it is safer, wiser, and less ex- 
pensive, by good and wholesome regulations, to preserve the 
virtue and intelligence of the people, and thereby prevent 
the introduction of erime and moral disease, than when they 
are once introduced, to be compelled to use harsh and severe 
measures to root them out. 

5 One hundred dollars, judiciously laid out in the eduea* 
tion of youth, would go further in the maintenance and sup- 
port of a free government, and in promoting the prosperity 
and happiness of the people, than thousands expended in 
enacting criminal codes, establishing courts of judicature, 
jails, and penitentiaries, without education. 

6 In this country, government was not established for the 
benefit and aggrandizement of the few, to the oppression 
and degradation of the many, as is the case in most other 
countries ; but for the promotion of the prosperity and hap- 
piness of all. The government of this country, sir, must 
depend on, and be regulated by, public opinion, or the sen- 
timents of the people. Whilst they are virtuous and en- 
lightened, all is well ; but should they become ignorant, and 
their moral sense depraved, all is gone. 

7 It would not be possible for the government of this 
country to establish, and successfully maintain, any course of 



250 

measures, however wise and salutary, contrary to the senti- 
ments of the great body of the people : Hence, the necessity 
of general information, and the diffusion of correct moral 
sentiments, throughout all classes of the community. Here, 
the people are the legitimate source of all power and author- 
ity: hence, the necessity of preserving the purity of that 
fountain, that the streams that flow therefrom, may be pure. 

8 " Vox populi, vox Dei"* is a true maxim, when applied 
to a virtuous and enlightened people, and when their expres- 
sion flows from a fair and deliberate consideration of the sub- 
ject matter, of such expression ; but when applied to an ig- 
norant and depraved people, it is false and dangerous in the 
extreme. It may be said, sir, that the constitution is the will 
of the people fairly expressed, by which the government are 
bound to abide; be it so: but should the great body of the peo- 
ple become ignorant and corrupt, they might, by constitu- 
tional provisions, deface the brightest features, and annul and 
revoke the surest guarantees of that sacred instrument : all, 
all, depends on the virtue and intelligence of the people. 

9 Much has been said, on former occasions, with respect 
to the enemies of this country. Ignorance and vice, sir, are 
the natural enemies of this and every republic on earth ; let 
these, with their mother idleness, together with their cousins 
german, profusion and extravagance, be expelled your bor- 
ders, and fortify the minds of all your citizens, with know- 
ledge and virtue : these are the legitimate fortifications of a 
republic. 

10 Knowledge and virtue, generally diffused, throughout 
all classes of community, will preserve, in its purity, the 
elective franchise, a virtuous and enlightened people, unin- 
fluenced by any improper excitement, will uniformly select 
their wisest and best men for office. 

1 1 Much has been said and written by great and good 
men, with respect to the importance of the people of this 
country, forming a national character. The military and 
naval character of this country, I trust, is now not a whit be- 
hind the chiefest : and a general diffusion of knowledge and 
virtue, would soon add, a moral and literary character to this 
nation, more uniform and glorious, than ever adorned any 
nation of ancient or modern date. Knowledge and virtue, 
may be considered, sir, as the solid resources of the nation : 
they will provide for the payment of your public debt, and 

* The voice of the people is the voice of God. 



251 

will sustain every expense compatible with the honor, dig 
nity, prosperity, and happiness of the nation. 

12 These, sir, are treasures, with which millions, nay, 
with which all the riches of Potosi, and all the treasures of 
Golconda will not bear a comparison. Finally, sir, virtue 
and intelligence, are the two great pillars, on which rests 
your republican edifice, the ark of your political safety, which 
was projected by superior wisdom, and erected by the purest 
patriotism ; the materials of which were bought with the 
choicest blood that ever besprinkled the altar of liberty; and 
unless these pillars are constantly kept, well propped and 
guarded, your fair fabric, which stands without a parallel in 
the history of nations, and the admiration of the civilized 
world, will totter — -fall — and crumble to ruins. 

SECTION VII. 

Importance of general information, in popular Govern- 
ments: — Extracts of a letter from the Hon. James 
Madison, addressed to the chairman of the school com- 

" mittee of the legislature of Kentucky, dated MonU 
pelier, August, 4, 1822. 

1 The liberal appropriations made by the legislature of 
Kentucky, for a general system of education, cannot be too 
much applauded. A popular government without popular 
information, or the means of acquiring it, is but a prologue 
to a farce or a tragedy, or perhaps both. Knowledge will 
ever govern ignorance ; and a people who mean to be their 
own governors, must arm themselves with the power which 
knowledge gives. 

2 Throughout the civilized world, nations are courting the 
praise of fostering science and the useful arts ; and are open- 
ing their eyes to the principles and the blessings of repre- 
sentative government. The American people owe it to 
themselves, and to the cause of free government, to prove 
by their establishments for the advancement and diffusion of 
knowledge, that their political institutions which are attract- 
ing observation from every quarter, are as favorable to the 
intellectual and moral improvement of man, as they are con- 
formable to his individual and social rights. What spectacle 
can be more edifying or more seasonable, than that of liber- 
ty and learning, each leaning on the other for their mutual 
and surest support ? 

3 I know not that I can offer, on the occasion, any sug- 
gestion not likely to occur to the committee. Were I to 



252 

lazard one, it would be in favor of adding to reading, writing 
and arithmetic, to which the instruction of the poor is com- 
monly limited, some knowledge of geography, such as can ea- 
sily be conveyed by a globe and map, and a concise geographi- 
cal grammar. And how easily and quickly might a general 
idea even be conveyed of the solar system, by the aid of a 
planetarium of the cheapest construction. 

4 No information seems better calculated to expand the 
mind and gratify curiosity ? than what would thus be impart- 
ed. This is especially the case with what relates to the globe 
we inhabit, the nations among which it is divided, and the 
characters and customs which distinguish them. An acquaint- 
ance with foreign countries, in this mode, has a kindred ef- 
fect with that of seeing them as travellers : which never fails, 
in uncorrupted minds, to weaken local prejudices, and en- 
large the sphere of benevolent feelings. 

5 A knowledge of the globe, and its various inhabitants, 
however slight, might moreover create a taste for books of 
travels and voyages ; out of which might grow a general taste 
for history, an inexhaustible fund of entertainment and in- 
struction. Any reading not of a vicious species, must be a 
good substitute for the amusements too apt to fill up the 
leisure of the labouring classes. 

SECTION VIII. 
Prospects of America: — -from the address of Jonathan 
Roberts, Esq. President of the Pennsylvania Agricul- 
tural Society, delivered at their first annual Exhibition, 
October ', 1823. 

1 It is impossible to survey the progress of human affairs, 
without being devoutly impressed with the wisdom and be- 
neficence of the Creator in opening to man endless hopes of 
improvement. What wonderful ameliorations of his condi- 
tion do we find through that period to which history ex- 
tends ? 

2 What clearer demonstration can be required, that further 
and higher improvements are to him attainable ? How short 
a time since this extensive and flourishing republic was over- 
run by a few hordes of wretched savages, who existed in a 
state little advanced above the irrational creation. 

3 Our ancestors were permitted to bring with them to these 
newly found shores, the civilization of thirty centuries: and 
to leave very many of the errors and vices handed down from 
darker periods, in the land of their fathers. They seem to 



have been led by one of those signal dispensations of Provi- 
dence, which promise mighty blessings to the human family. 

4 Though formidable obstacles were opposed, yet what 
amazing results have a period of less than two centuries pro- 
duced. It was not merely a wilderness, separated from the 
civilized world by a watery expanse of a thousand leagues, that 
was to be tamed and cultivated — the unjust restrictions of the 
mother country were to be courageously resisted; even though 
supported by tremendous power, and maintained with fero- 
cious obstinacy. 

5 Thanks to a kind Providence, a brighter prospect opens 
on us. No soil seems left in which the seeds of future con- 
flicts can vegetate. Our country is called upon to realize all 
the philanthropist can wish or hope. 

6 In establishing for themselves and their posterity the 
rights of a separate and independent community, and in con- 
secrating the fundamental principles of civil and religious 
liberty as the corner stone of their polity, our fathers planted 
the seeds from which we, their children, may hope to gather, 
under the blessings of that Providence which has so eminently 
watched over us, an abundant harvest of individual and so- 
cial happiness. 

7 It would be little reasonable to expect that the great re- 
sults, which in the economy of Providence may be reserved 
for this western world, should reach an early consummation. 
The history of all times proves that moral advancements are 
the more durable for having been gradually attained. Their 
solidity, it would seem, was in the ratio of their march. 

8 The cultivation of the youthful mind is the lever which 
must raise individuals and communities — It is not the busi- 
ness of a day to diffuse through a whole community a taste 
for reading and a relish for knowledge. It must be the work 
of time, under the influence of wise laws faithfully and dili- 
gently administered. 

9 A high state of moral improvement can justly be looked 
for only when a people are happy — plenty is an essential in- 
gredient in the elements of individual and social happiness. — 
Among the pursuits promotive of public prosperity, the 
cultivation of the soil, and rural industry, stand pre-eminent 
It would be useless to insist upon a truth so obvious. 

10 With us the rural population will ever be most nume- 
rous. Though individually they may not be the most wealthy., 
they must collectively be the possessors of the greater por- 
tion of national wealth. In the community of public buiv 

Y 



254 

dens, they will ever sustain a full share. I claim for thern, 
however, no extraordinary merit or virtue. 

11 The tilling of the soil has every where been deemed 
honorable, but the farmers of United America seem destined 
to form a more respectable and more intelligent body of men 
than those of any other country. Their numbers, and our 
political institutions, secure to them much consideration — 
Education is within their reach. They are invited to the 
acquisition of knowledge. Intelligence and virtue are every 
where secure of respect. 

12 After a long period of calamity and carnage, suffering 
humanity has demanded, not in vain, a pacificated world. A 
state of peace has thrown nations very much upon their own 
resources ; such is emphatically our attitude at present. We 
must seek to produce those things at home, which we can ob- 
tain no longer abroad on the principle of exchange, and 
they are only so to be obtained without certain and speedy 
ruin. It ought to be our felicity, that the resources of this 
widely spread and growing empire are immense, and that 
the energies of a free people may be directed to develope 
them. 

13 Our heretofore national prosperity has given us a taste 
for productions which we must either seek to domesticate or 
forego their use. Wine, silk and tea, may be named among 
these conveniences. — Millions are annually exported and ex- 
pended to obtain for us those articles. 

14 Household industry comprehends an essential interest 
in rural economy. It is the department in which the influ- 
ence of that sex, to whom we are bound by the strongest ties 
of love and gratitude, is most conspicuous — it is the scene 
where the thrift, the ingenuity, the taste and intelligence of 
woman, has full latitude of operation. 

15 How many comforts — how T many enjoyments are accu- 
mulated — how many endearments are secured, by raising her 
to her proper elevation ! A community will be formed, re- 
fined and happy, in proportion as woman is secure of respect. 
Employment is ever the shield of innocence, and the nurse of 
virtue. 

16 In a farmer's house it is the besl maxim, to make what 
you can, even when foreign commodities are most depressed. 
Who would not prefer having their spinner, their dyer, their 
clothier, for their neighbors, rather than in a foreign land ? 
Independently of all interested considerations, we must de- 
light to cultivate an interchange of kindnesses and mutual 



255 
good offices. How much must life languish where they are 
wanted ! 

17 It is not in relation to the comforts of families only, that 
household manufactures deserve high regard and considera- 
tion: They are of essential importance to national prosperity. 
The community whose time is the most carefully and usefully 
employed, will be the most flourishing. Where there is no 
household manufactures, much time will be consumed to lit- 
tle purpose, and much expense must accrue, to purchase that 
which is not produced. 

IS The wealth sent abroad for foreign conveniences, as 
things now are, will slowly, perhaps not at all, return. Thus 
the nation will become impoverished. National penury must 
militate against individual and domestic happiness. It is a 
point of sound policy, to nourish a taste for household manu- 
factures — It is for the ladies to facilitate and effect their es- 
tablishment — Teach them it is for their country's good, and 
they will do their duty. 

SECTION IX. 
Persuasive to early Piety and Moral Rectitude : — -from an 
address delivered by Frederick Beasly, D. D. Provost 
of the University of Pennsylvania, to the senior class 
of the students, on the 22d of July, 1821. 

MY YOUNG BRETHREN, 

1 Your intentions, are, no doubt, at this time upright, and 
all your views laudable. — The evil propensities and passions 
which are common to your race, you must be presumed to 
possess, but they have not yet gained the ascendency over 
your better powers. If vicious inclinations have occasion- 
ally transported you into excess, this excess has been speedi- 
ly succeeded by remorse and penitence, which have operated 
as an immediate corrective of such evil. 

2 Whatever may have been the follies or vices, into 
which you may have been hurried, habits of irregularity and 
excess are not yet contracted, and evil propensities have not 
subjected you to their dominion. From your commerce with 
a corrupt world, and exposure to the allurements of its plea- 
sures, and its temptations to dishonor, you have not yet relax- 
ed your principles or tainted your morals. 

3 If you are beginning to lisp the language of profanity, 
a delicate and sensitive conscience gives you warning of the 
outrage you are committing against God. If you have giv- 
en way to the impulses of unbridled passions, the pangs of 



256 

contrition have been their bitter fruits. At the prospect of 
shame, dishonor and infamy, your spirits would shudder 
within you. 

4 Not only are you free, as yet. from the slavery of sin- 
ful passions, but the virtuous principles of your constitution, 
aided by the holy spirit of God, maintain a decided prepon- 
derance over those which incline you to evil. Your heart 
dilates with secret emulation and delight, when you hear 
recounted any generous and noble deeds which have been 
performed by others. Your moral feelings are alive to all 
the claims of duty. 

5 The doctrines of the gospel interest and touch your 
heart, while its moral precepts recommend themselves by an 
irresistible evidence to your understandings. You cannot 
walk abroad and contemplate the wonders of creation, with- 
out feeling a sacred glow of gratitude and love to their be- 
neficent Author. 

6 Such, at this time, my young brethren, in all probabili- 
ty, is your moral condition, and such are your views, feel- 
ings and principles of action. It is a happy and most pre- 
cious moment of your lives, could you but be rendered sensi- 
ble of its full importance. This is to you emphatically the 
accepted time, this is the day of salvation. 

7 From the days of infancy to those of boyhood, and from 
those of boyhood to those of youth, no determinate plans 
are formed, and scarcely ever any definite character impress- 
ed upon the mind. — Through this portion of the journey of 
life, almost all of us pass with equal thoughtlessness and fri- 
volity, and when arrived at youth find ourselves at the same 
stage and pursuing the same road. 

8 Not so, however, when we have attained to youth and 
manhood. From the moment in which you commence an 
intercourse with the world on your own account, and mingle 
amongst its actors, entering into its interests, its sympathies 
and its conflicts, the paths in which you walk begin to diverge 
from each other. Some of them will lead you to respecta- 
bility, peace, honor, fame, immortality ; while others will 
conduct you in a downward course to shame, disgrace, mise- 
ry and everlasting contempt. 

9 You stand, my young brethren, upon the point from 
which this divergence begins. — Does it not infinitely con- 
cern you to give heed to the steps which you shal 1 take next* 
to pause seriously, reflect and deliberate before you precipi- 
tate yourselves into unseen dangers, and begin to contest with 



257 

enemies with whose strength and wiles you are unacquainted ? 

10 Hitherto amidst the levity and heedlessness of younger 
years, reflection and seriousness were more difficult to be at- 
tained by you ; but it is now time, that you should be sus- 
ceptible of the impressions of truth and duty, and should im- 
bibe the lessons of wisdom and sobriety. 

11 It is fearful to reflect upon the changes which often 
take place in the fortunes and conditions of young men, im- 
mediately after that period of life to which you have now 
attained. How many opening prospects of youth are soon 
clouded or sunk in perpetual night! How many hearts of 
parents and friends are wrung with anguish at the sudden 
disappointment of those hopes which they had long and fond- 
ly cherished ! 

12 You yourselves are entirely unapprised of the severi- 
ty of that trial to which you must be subjected in making 
your way through the world — what evil communications 
will essay to corrupt your good manners. What blasphe- 
mies and impieties will incessantly assail your ear and insin- 
uate a secret poison into your hearts ! 

1 3 And it is to be remarked as an awful admonition, on 
this head, that the progress which our unruly appetites and 
passions make towards subjecting us to their despotism, is im- 
perceptible ; and that the demands which they make upon us 
are increased by every indulgence which we grant them. 
We are subjected to their yoke before we are aware ; and 
then, of all the criminal desires, it may be truly said, that 
increase of appetite doth grow by the very aliment they have 
fed upon. 

1 4 How precious, in this point of light, is the period of youth, 
and how infinitely important the restraining influence of reli- 
gion, to save it from the miseries it may bring upon itself! 

15 My young brethren, you may now be awake to every 
virtuous and noble sentiment, and susceptible of the tender- 
est impressions of religion — and yet, a little familiarity with 
scenes of guilt, may diminish your sensibility in this respect, 
gradually harden your heart, and vitiate your thoughts and 
principles of action. 

16 Vice insidiously spreads its contamination through the 
youthful mind; and when once it is deeply imbibed, where is 
the antidote that shall check its fatal progress ? — What an im- 
pressive lesson does this consideration teach you, to cultivate 
an early piety, whieh is the only effectual expedient by which 
vou shall be saved from the evils to come ! 

Y2 



258 

17 The next consideration which should lead you to seek 
the grace of early piety, is, that it furnishes you with the 
best provision for a long and happy life. 

18 But if virtue has sometimes to encounter persecutions 
and be tested by its trials, it never fails ultimately to contri- 
bute to our welfare, and promote our true enjoyment. Vice, 
on the other hand, by the tumult and inquietude which it 
awakes in the bosom, never fails, not only to imbitter our 
pleasures, but also to abridge the term of our present lives. 

19 The wicked shall not live out half their days. — Intem- 
perance, debauchery, avarice, inordinate ambition, revenge, 
all the wild and lawless passions, hurry their victims to un- 
timely graves. Do you not perceive that righteousness ex- 
alteth to honor, but that sin sinketh down to shame ? Are 
not the good, although not always, yet, for the most part, 
the prosperous upon earth ? 

20 Do they not find that while the name of the wicked is 
allowed to rot in public estimation, a good name is to them 
better than great riches, and loving favor than silver and 
gold? 

21 Their meekness and gentleness of disposition concili- 
ate the esteem and affection of others, — their soft words ex- 
tinguish wrath, — their patience and forbearance under pro- 
vocations and injuries disarm resentment and revenge, — 
their blameless lives and scrupulous integrity attract univer- 
sal confidence, — their habitual intercourse with God, both 
by internal and external acts of homage, purifies their minds 
from all unholy desires, and quells the turbulence of unruly- 
passions, while that ardent love of mankind which springs 
out of the pure fountain of religion in the heart, prompts 
them to those benevolent, humane and disinterested exer- 
tions, which never fail to reward the performers of them 
with the gratitude and attachment of their fellow-men. 

SECTION X. 
Selections from the first Message of Governor Thomas, 
to the Legislature of fielaivare, Jan. 7, 1824. 
1 I would earnestly press upon your attention the propri- 
ety of adopting some plan, by which the means of educa- 
tion may be accessible to every member of the community. 
This is a subject of primary importance, and I trust it will 
receive from you that serious consideration to which it is 
justly entitled. The school fund is gradually increasing; 
out if permitted to remain untouched, it would require at 



259 

least twenty or thirty years before it would be sufficient to 
carry instruction into every family. 

2 If nursed with the most assiduous car£, one generation 
must pass away before it would be productive of any bene- 
fit to the community. In these portentous times, it seems 
rather a hazardous experiment to permit one generation to 
sleep in ignorance, in order that light and knowledge may 
be extended in the succeeding. The best way to secure the 
blessings of education to the next generation is to confer 
them upon the present. 

3 Ignorance cannot appreciate what it never enjoyed : they 
alone who have been favored with the blessings of educa- 
tion, can estimate them at their proper value ; and they alone 
will be anxious to transmit them, unimpaired, to their 
posterity. 

4 If the rising generation is permitted to remain in igno- 
rance, there is little security that the treasures you design 
for their children w 7 ill not be directed into some other chan- 
nel : but if we bestow upon the rising youth those benefits 
which flow from virtue and knowledge, it seems a needless 
apprehension to suppose that they will be less solicitous than 
we are, to transmit to their descendants those blessings from 
which they themselves have derived such sensible comforts. 

5 I would, therefore, recommend to your consideration 
the propriety of calling the school fund into active opera- 
tion, and of supplying its deficiency to promote the object 
for which it was originally designed, by a school tax. Such 
a tax would be a blessing to the people, rather than a bur- 
den, for it would tend to relieve them from the most intole- 
rable of all burdens, the burden of immorality and ignorance. 

6 In a country like ours, where all power, directly or in- 
directly, flows from the people, it is a matter of astonishment 
that the diffusion of knowledge and the extension of religion 
and morality among the people were not the first object of 
public patronage. Some of our sister states have wisely ex- 
tended the arm of public protection over the education of 
the poor. I trust that you will not be backward in following 
this example. 

7 No longer satisfied with passing laws to punish bad 
habits, let us unite our efforts in the enactment of laws to 
prevent their formation. If the fountain is permitted to re- 
main open, it is a useless labor to throw barriers across the 
stream. It is in vain that we swell our penal code, if every 
rising generation is permitted to be raised in ignorance and 



260 

vice. In vain do we boast of our elective franchise, and ot 
our civil rights, if a large portion of our citizens are unable 
to read the tickets which they annually present at the polls. 

8 Some men may think themselves free, but in fact they 
are slaves. Ignorance always has been, and always will be, 
the slave of knowledge. If information is generally diffused 
among a people, that people will always be their own mas- 
ters — they will always govern. An enlightened people 
never has been, and never can be, enslaved. But, if the door 
of knowledge is closed upon the poor, who are always the 
great mass of the people ; if education is confined to the 
circles of the rich, the few will govern. 

9 The people may, for a while, be flattered with the idea 
thai they are free, and rest contented under the delusion ; 
but this dream will vanish, and they will soon openly be 
constrained to wear the chains which their own ignorance 
forged. 

10 The unhappy situation of foreign nations induces me, 
thus urgently, to press upon you the subject of education. 
What but ignorance, and its necessary accompaniment, vice, 
have reared that disgusting spectacle of moral debasement 
which Europe at present exhibits ? Sensible of the incom- 
patibility between knowledge and slavery, the masters of 
the old world have closed every avenue against the people, 
and openly declared that a nation, to be kept in chains, must 
be kept in ignorance. 

11 The circulation of all books that advocate political 
liberty and civil rights, has been suppressed, and the free- 
dom of the press is totally destroyed. If we would avoid 
these effects, let us avoid the cause. Human nature is the 
same in every clime, and in the same circumstance with the 
same causes pressing upon it, will always produce the same 
effects. 

12 Every page of history exposes to us the shoals upon 
which other nations have shipwrecked their liberty, and the 
present state of Europe dreadfully confirms the lesson. En- 
lighten the people — open schools for the instruction of the 
poor, and our liberty will be perpetual. But, if we close 
our ears against the admonitions of history, and shut our 
eyes against the light of experience, the fairest prospects 
that ever opened upon the world will be blighted, and the 
hopes of humanity, and the prayers of the pious, will be 
fruitless and unavailing. 

13 1 would also earnestly recommend to you the abolish- 



261 
merit of imprisonment for debt. That a practice so obviously- 
opposed to every principle of justice and humanity, should, 
in an age like this, still remain sanctioned by the laws of the 
land, is truly a matter of surprise and regret. It is a source 
of pleasure, to observe the attention of some of our sister 
states awakening to this subject. It is worthy of our serious 
consideration, whether upon this subject also we will linger 
behind the age, and still refuse to do homage to the spirit of 
improvement that is moving over our land. 

14 Pecuniary embarrassments are seldom the result of moral 
turpitude: They most frequently flow from causes to which 
the honorable and upright are equally exposed with the 
worthless; and against which, often, no human prudence can 
guard. Your own observation will warrant me in the asser- 
tion that ninety-nine debtors out of a hundred are such from 
improvidence or misfortune. 

15 It is difficult to perceive why, in the case of the debtor, 
the benign maxim of the criminal law should be reversed, 
and that ninety-nine innocent persons should be forced to 
suffer, rather than one guilty person should escape. Our 
law relative to debtors is unjust, for innocence and guilt are 
treated with indiscriminating severity, — It is inhuman, for 
neither the weakness of woman, nor the helplessness of age 
is secure from its operation,— it is partial, for it exempts the 
rich, and falls exclusively upon the poor. 

16 To imprison for debt, is, in effect, to tax our virtues for 
the gratification of our vices. It seems calculated to pro- 
mote no good end. If a debtor has property and is honest, 
the law is useless : if he has property and is a rogue, no law 
will be of any service: — but if he has really no property, the 
law is not only useless, but oppressive and cruel. 

17 The unhappy debtor, by being thus deprived of his per- 
sonal liberty, is deprived of the only means left him of dis- 
charging his debts. His only prospect, perhaps, is his labor, 
and his personal attention to business. This prospect im- 
prisonment destroys; — and it has often happened that large 
families, whose daily subsistence depended upon the personal 
labor and attention of their head, have thus by being depriv- 
ed of that head, by an unfeeling creditor, been scattered and 
thrown upon the charity of the public. The many exhibi- 
tions of hardship which the prisons of our country frequently 
present, will, it is confidently hoped, quicken your attention 
to this subject 



2m 

SECTION XI. 
Early rising conducive to health and longevity. 

1 The first sensation of drowsiness is nature's call for 
sleep. Waking shows the body is rested. After the degree 
of strength, of which the state of the system is capable, is 
restored by sleep, longer stay in bed only relaxes. He per- 
verts reason, who, by habit or artificial excitement, keeps 
awake so late that he is not ready to rise at daybreak, nature's 
undoubted signal for quitting repose, obedience to w T hich se- 
cures desire of rest at the fit hour. Some people close their 
shutters against it. 

2 George III. consulted his household physicians, separate- 
ly, as to the modes of life conducive to health and longevity; 
as to the importance of early rising, there was full coinci- 
dence. Old people, examined as to the cause of longevity, 
all agree that they have been in the habit of going to bed 
early and rising early. 

3 We lose vigor by lying abed in health, longer than for 
necessary sleep; the mind is less tranquil, the body less dis- 
posed for refreshing sleep, appetite and digestion are lessen- 
ed. Few things contribute so much to preserve health and 
prolong life, as going to bed early and rising early. 

Boston Medical Intelligencer. 

4 It is a reprehensible practice, in many parents, to pre- 
vent their younger children from acquiring the pleasant habit 
of early rising, for the purpose of " keeping them out of the 
way in the morning." The habit of rising at daybreak 
or earlier during the winter season, and washing the face and 
hands with cold water, ought to be enjoined as an indispen- 
sible duty in every public school, or domestic nursery. 

5 Rising early is not only a healthy and agreeable habit, 
and cheap, — and easy to preserve, when once acquired, — but 
profitable, — and generally absolutely necessary to success in 
the pursuit of wealth, prosperity, and happiness. 

6 Mr. John M'Leod, the proprietor and principal of the 
Central Academy, at Washington City, has given an exam- 
ple worthy of universal imitation, and demonstrated how 
easily children can be led into the path of duty by rewards 
and proper discipline. His pupils rise vo hint arily and con 
stantly at day light or earlier. J. T. 



263 

PART EIGHTH. 

POPE'S ESSAY ON MAN &c. 



CHAPTER I. 

AN ESSAY ON MAN ; IN FOUR EPISTLES TO H. ST. JOHN, LORD 
BOLINGBROKE. TO WHICH IS ADDED, THE UNIVERSAL 
PRAYER. BY ALEXANDER POPE, ESQ. 

EPISTLE I. 

Of the Nature and State of Man, with respect to the 
Universe. 

1 AWAKE ! my St. John ! leave all meaner things 
To low ambition, and the pride of kings. 

Let us (since life can little more supply 

Than just to look about us and to die) 

Expatiate free o'er all this scene of man; 

A mighty maze ! but not without a plan; 

A wild, where weeds and flow'rs promiscuous shoot, 

Or garden, tempting with forbidden fruit. 

2 Together let us beat this ample field, 
Try what the open, what the covert yield, 
The latent tracks, the giddy heights explore 
Of all who blindly creep, or sightless soar; 
Eye nature's walks, shoot folly as it flies, 
And catch the manners living as they rise; 
Laugh where we must, be candid where we can, 
But vindicate the ways of God to man. 

3 Say first, of God above, or man below, 
What can we reason, but from what we know; 
Of man what see we, but his station here, 
From which to reason, or to which refer? 

Through worlds unnumbered, though the God be known, 
'Tis curs to trace him only in our own. 

4 He, who through vast immensity can pierce, 
See worlds on worlds compose one universe, 
Observe how system into system runs, 

What other plants circle other suns, 

What varied being peoples every star, 

May tell, why Heav'n has made us as we are. 



264 

5 But of this frame, the bearings and the ties, 
The strong connexions, nice dependencies, 
Gradations just, has thy pervading soul 
Look'd through ? Or, can a part contain the whole? 

6 Respecting man, whatever wrong we call, 
May, must be right, as relative to all. ' 

In hun^m works, though labour'd on with pain, 
A thousand movements scarce one purpose gain; 
In God's, one single can its end produce, 
Yet serves to second too some other use. 

7 When the proud steed shall know why man restrains 
His fiery course, or drives him o'er the plains; 

When the dull ox, why now he breaks the clod, 
Is now a victim, and now Egypt's god; 
Then shall man's pride and dulness comprehend 
His actions', passions', being's use and end; 
Why doing, suffering, check'd, impell'd; and why 
This hour a slave, the next a deity. 

8 Then say not, man's imperfect, Heav'n in fault; 
Say rather, man's as perfect as he ought; 

His knowledge measur'd to his state and place, 

His time a moment, and a point his space. 

If to be perfect in a certain sphere, 

What matter soon or late, or here or there? 

The blest to-day, is as completely so, 

As who began a thousand years ago. 

9 Heaven from all creatures hides the book of fate, 
All but the page prescrib'd, their present state: 
From brutes w r hat men, from men what spirits know; 
Or who could suffer being here below T ? 

The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day, 
Had he thy reason, would he skip and play? 
Pleas'd to the last, he crops the flowery food, 
And licks the hand just rais'd to shed his blood. 

10 blindness to the future ! kindly giv'n, 
That each may fill the circle mark'd by Heav'n; 
Who sees with equal eye, as God of all, 

A hero perish, or a sparrow fall, 

Atoms or systems into ruin hurl'd, 

And now a bubble burst, and now a world. 

11 Hope humbly then ; with trembling pinions soar ; 
Wait the great teacher, death, and God adore! 

What future bliss, he gives not thee to know, 
But gives that hope to be thy blessing now. 



266 

Hope springs eternal in the human breast : ■ 
Man never is, but always to be blest. 
The soul uneasy, and confin'd from home, 
Rests and expatiates in a life to come. 

12 Lo ! the poor Indian, whose untutor'd mind 
Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind ; 
His soul proud science never taught to stray 
Far as the solar walk, or milky way; 

Yet simple nature to his hope has giv'n, 
Behind the cloud-topt hill, an humbler heav'n; 
Some safer world in depth of woods embraced, 
Some happier island in the wat'ry waste, 
Where slaves once more their native land behold, 
No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold! 
To be, contents his natural desire, 
He asks no angel's wings, no seraph's fire; 
But thinks, admitted to that equal sky, 
His faithful dog shall bear him company. 

1 3 Go, wiser thou ! and in thy scale of sense 
Weigh thy opinion against Providence; 

Call imperfection what thou fancy'st such, 
Say, here he gives too little, there too much; 
Destroy all creatures for thy sport or gust ; 
Yet cry, if man's- unhappy, God's unjust. 

14 In pride, in reasoning pride, our error lies; 
All quit their sphere, and rush into the skies. 
And who but wishes to invert the laws 

Of order, sins against th' Eternal Cause. 

15 Ask for what end the heavenly bodies shine, 
Earth for whose use? Pride answers, "'Tis for mine; 
"For me kind Nature wakes her genial power, 
"Suckles each herb, and spreads out every flower; 
"Annual for me, the grape, the rose renew 

" The juice nectareous, and the balmy dew ; 
"For me, the mine a thousand treasures brings; 
"Forme, health gushes from a thousand springs; 
" Seas roll to waft me, suns to light me rise ; 
"My footstool earth, my canopy the skies." 

16 But errs not Nature from this gracious end, 
From burning suns when livid deaths descend, 
When earthquakes swallow, or when tempests sweep 
Towns to one grave, whole nations to the deep? 
"No ('tis reply'd) the first Almighty Cause 
"Acts not bv partial, but by general laws ; 

Z 



266 

"TV exceptions few ; some change since all began: 
"And what created perfect ?" Why then man ? 

17 If the great end be human happiness, 
Then nature deviates ; and can man do less ? 
As much that end a constant course requires 
Of showers and sun-shine, as of man's desires; 
As much eternal springs and cloudless skies, 
As men for ever template, calm, and wise. 

Why charge we Heav'n in those, in these acquit? 
In both, to reason right, is to submit. 

18 Better for us, perhaps it might appear, 
Were there all harmony, all virtue here ; 
That never air or ocean felt the wind ; 
That never passion discomposed the mind ; 
But all subsists by elemental strife ; 

And passions are the elements of life. 
The gen'ral order, since the whole began> 
Is kept in nature, and is kept in man. 

19 What would this man ? now upward will he soar, 
And little less than angel, would be more; 

Now looking downward, just as gFiev'd appears 
To want the strength of bulls, the fur of bears. 
Made for his use all creatures if he call, 
Say what their use, had he the powers of all ? 

20 Nature to these, without profusion kind, 
The proper organs, proper pow'rs assigned; 
Each seeming want compensated of course, 
Here, with degrees of swiftness, there, of force; 
All in exact proportion to the state; 

Nothing to add, and nothing to abate. 

Each beast, each insect, happy in its own ; 

Is Heav'n unkind to man, and man alone? 

Shall he alone, whom rational we call, 

Be pleas'd with nothing, if not blest with all? 

21 The bliss of man (could pride that blessing find) 
Is, not to act or think beyond mankind; 

No pow'rs of body or of soul to share, 
But what his nature and his state can bear. 
Why has not man a microscopic eye? 
For this plain reason — man is not a fly. 

22 Say what the use, were finer optics giv'n, 
T> inspect a mite, not comprehend the heav'n? 
Or touch, if tremblingly alive all o'er, 

To smart and agonize at every pore? 



267 
Or quick effluvia darting through the brain, 
Die of a rose in aromatic pain? 
If nature thundered in his opening ears, 
And stunn'd him with the music of the spheres, 
How would he wish that Heav'n had left him still 
The whispering zephyr, and the purling rill! 
Who finds not Providence all good and wise, 
Alike in what it gives, and what denies? 

23 Far as creation's ample range extends, 
The scale of sensual, mental pow'rs ascends: 
Mark how it mounts to man's imperial race, 
From the green myriads in the peopled grass: 
What modes of sight betwixt each wide extreme, 
The mole's dim curtain and the lynx's beam: 

Of smell, the headlong lioness between, 
And hound sagacious on the tainted green: 
Of hearing, from the life that fills the flood, 
To that which warbles through the vernal wood ! 

24 The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine! 
Feels at each thread, and lives along the line: 
In the nice bee, what sense so subtly true, 
From pois'nous herbs extracts the healing dew! 
How instinct varies in the grov'ling swine, 
Compar'd, half-reas'ning elephant, with thine! 
'Twixt that and reason, what a nice barrier! 
For ever sep'rate, yet for ever near! 

25 Remembrance and reflection how ally'd! 
What thin partitions sense from thought divide! 
And middle natures how they long to join, 

Yet never pass'd th' insuperable line! 
Without this just gradation, could they be 
Subjected these to those, or all to thee? 
The powers of all subdu'd by thee alone, 
Is not thy reason all these pow'rs in one? 

26 What if the foot, ordain'd the dust to tread, 
Or hand to toil, aspir'd to be the head? 

What if the head, the eye, or ear repin'd 

To serve mere engines to the ruling mind? 

Just as absurd for any part to claim 

To be another in this gen'ral frame: 

Just as absurd, to mourn the tasks or pains 

The great directing Mind of all ordains. 

21 All are but parts of one stupendous whole, 
Whose body nature is, and God the soul ; 



268 

That, changed through all, and yet in all the same; 
Great in the earth, as in th' ethereal frame; 
Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze, 
Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees; 
Lives through all life, extends through all extent; 
Spreads undivided, operates unspent; 
Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part, 
As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart; 
To him, no high, no low, no great, no small: 
He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all. 

28 Cease then, nor order imperfection name: 
Our proper bliss depends on what we blame. 
JCnow thy own point: this kind, this due degree 
Of blindness, weakness, Heav'n bestows on thee. 
Submit. — In this, or any other sphere, 

Secure to be as blest as thou canst bear: 
Safe in the hand of one disposing Pow'r, 
Or in the natal, or the mortal hour. 

29 All nature is but art, unknown to thee; 
All chance, direction, which thou canst not see: 
All discord, harmony, not understood: 

All partial evil, universal good: 

And, spite of pride, in erring reason's spite, 

One truth is clear, Whatever is, is right. 



EPISTLE II. 

Of the Nature and State of Man, with respect to him 

self as an individual. 

1 Know then thyself, presume not God to scan! 
The proper study of mankind is man. 

Could he, whose rules the rapid comet bind,* 
Describe or fix one movement of his mind? 
Who saw its fires here rise, and there descend, 
Explain his own beginning, or his end? 
Alas, what wonder! man's superior part 
Unchecked may rise, and climb from art to art: 
But when his own great work is but begun, 
What reason weaves, by passion is undone. 

2 Trace science, then, with modesty thy guide; 
First strip oif all her equipage of pride; 

Deduct what is but vanity, or dress, 
Or learning's luxury, or idleness ; 

* Alluding to Newton. 



269 

Or tricks to show the stretch of human brain, 

Mere curious pleasure, or ingenious pain; 

Expunge the whole, or lop th' excrescent parts 

Of all our vices have created arts: 

Then see how little the remaining sum, 

Which serv'd the past, and must the times to come! 

3 Two principles in human nature reign; 
Self-love to urge, and reason to restrain; 
JNor this a good, nor that a bad we call, 
Each works its end, to move or govern all: 
And to their proper operation still, 
Ascribe all good ; to their improper, ill. 

4 Self-love, the spring of motion, acts the soul; 
Reason's comparing balance rules the whole. 
Man, but for that, no action could attend, 

And, but for this, were active to no end; 

Fix'd like a plant on his peculiar spot, 

To draw nutrition, propagate and rot; 

Or, meteor-like, flame lawless through the void, 

Destroying others, by himself destroyed. 

5 Most strength the moving principle requires; 
Active its task, it prompts, impels, inspires, 
Sedate and quiet the comparing lies, 

Form'd but to check, deliberate, and advise. 
Self-love still stronger, as its object's nigh; 
Reason's at distance, and in prospect lie: 
That sees immediate good by present sense; 
Reason, the future, and the consequence. 

6 Thicker than arguments, temptations throng ; 
At best more watchful this, but that more strong. 
The action of the stronger to suspend, 

Reason still use, to reason still attend : 
Attention, habit and experience gains, 
Each strengthens reason, and self-love restrains. 

7 Let subtle schoolmen teach these friends to fight, 
More studious to divide than to unite; 

And grace and virtue, sense and reason split, 
With all the rash dexterity of wit. 
Wits, just like fools, at war about a name, 
Have full as oft no meaning, or the same. 

8 Self-love and reason to one end aspire, 
Pain their aversion, pleasure their desire: 
But greedy that, its object would devour, 
This taste the honey, and not wound the flow's; 

Z 2 



270 

Pleasure, or wrong or rightly understood, 
Our greatest evil or our greatest good. 

9 Modes of self-love the passions we may call; 
'Tis real good, or seeming, moves them all; 

But since not ev'ry good we can divide, 
And reason bitis us for our own provide, 
Passions, though selfish, if their means be fair, 
List under reason, and deserve her care; 
Those, that imparted, court a nobler aim, 
Exalt their kind, and take some virtue's name. 

10 In lazy apathy let stoics boast 
Their virtue fix'd; 'tis fix'd as in a frost; 
Contracted all, retiring to the breast; 

But strength of mind is exercise, not rest: 

The rising tempest puts in act the soul, 

Parts it may ravage, but preserves the whole. 

On life's vast ocean diversely we sail, 

Reason the card, but passion is the gale; 

Nor God alone in the still calm we find, 

He mounts the storm, and walks upon the wind. 

11 Passions, like elements, though born to fight, 
Yet, mix'd and soften'd, in his work unite: 

These 'tis enough to temper and employ; 
But what composes man, can man destroy? 
Suffice that reason keep to nature's road, 
Subject, compound them, follow her and God. 

12 Love, hope and joy, fair pleasure's smiling train, 
Hate, fear and grief, the family of pain; 

These mix'd with art, and to due bounds confin'd, 
Make and maintain the balance of the mind: 
The lights and shades, whose well-accorded strife 
Gives all the strength and color of our life. 

1 3 Pleasures are ever in our hands or eyes, 
And when in act they cease, in prospect rise: 
Present to grasp, and future still to find, 
The whole employ of body and of mind. 

All spread their charms, but charm not all alike^ 
On different senses diff'rent objects strike; 
Hence diff'rent passions more or less inflame, 
As strong or weak, the organs of the frame: 
And hence one master passion in the breast, 
Like Aaron's serpent, swallows up the rest. 

14 Yes, nature's road must ever be preferr'd: 
Reason is here no guide, but still a guard: 



271 
'Tis hers to rectify, not overthrow, 
And treat this passion more as friend than foe: 
A mightier pow'r the strong direction sends, 
And several men impels to sev'ral ends. 

15 Like varying winds, by other passions tost, 
This drives them constant to a certain coast. 

16 Th' eternal art, educing good from ill, 
Grafts on this passion our best principle. 
'Tis thus the mercury of man is fix'd, 
Strong grows the virtue with his nature mix'd; 
The dross cements what else were too refin'd, 
And in one interest body acts with mind. 

17 As fruits ungrateful to the planter's care, 
On savage stocks inserted learn to bear; 

The surest virtues thus from passions shoot, 

Wild nature's vigor working at the root. 

What crops of wit and honesty appear 

From spleen, from obstinacy, hate or fear! 

See anger, zeal and fortitude supply; 

Ev'n avarice, prudence; sloth, philosophy; 

Envy, to which th' ignoble mind's a slave, 

Is emulation in the learn'd or brave: 

Nor virtue, male or female, can we name, 

But what will grow on pride, or grow on shame. 

18 Thus nature gives us (let it check our pride) 
The virtue nearest to our vice ally'd; 

Reason the bias turns to good from ill, 
And Nero reigns a Titus, if he will. 
The fiery soul abhorr'd in Catiline, 
In Decius charms, in Curtius is divine. 
The same ambition can destroy or save, 
And makes a patriot as it makes a knave. 

19 This light and darkness in our chaos join'd, 
What shall divide? The God within the mind.* 
Extremes in nature equal ends produce, 

.In man they join to some mysterious use ; 



* A Platonic phrase for conscience ; and here employed with great 
judgment and propriety. For conscience either signifies, speculatively, 
the judgment we pass of things upon whatever principle we chance to 
have ; and then it is only opinion, a very unable judge and divider. Or 
else it signifies, practically, the application of the eternal rule of right (re- 
ceived by us as the law of God) to the regulations of our actions ; and then 
it is properly conscience, the God (or the law of God) within the mind, of 
power to divide the light from the darkness in this chaos of the passions, 



272 
>Though each by turns the other's bounds invade, 
As in some well-wrought picture, light and shade; 
And oft so mixt, the difference is too nice 
Where ends the virtue, or begins the vice. 

20 Fools ! who from hence into the notion fall. 
That vice or virtue there is none at all. 

If white and black blend, soften and unite 
A thousand ways, is there no black or white? 
Ask your own heart, and nothing is so plain; 
'Tis to mistake them, costs the time and pain. 

21 Vice is a monster of so frightful mien, 
As, to be hated, needs but to be seen ; 

Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, 

We first endure, then pity, then embrace. 

But where th' extreme of vice, was ne'er agreed ; 

Ask where's the North? at York, 'tis on the Tweed: 

In Scotland, at the Orcades; and there, 

At Greenland, Zembla, or the Lord knows where. 

22 No creature owns it in the first degree, 
But thinks his neighbor farther gone than he: 
Ev'n those who dwell beneath its very zone, 
Or never feel the rage, or never own ; 

What happier natures shrink at with affright, 
The hard inhabitant contends is right. 

23 Virtuous and vicious every man must be, 
Few in th' extreme, but all in the degree ; 
The rogue and fool by fits is fair and wise, 
And ev'n the best, by fits, w T hat they despise. 
'Tis but by parts we follow good or ill, 

For, vice or virtue, self directs it still ; 

Each individual seeks a sev'ral goal; 

But Heav'n's great, view is one, and that the whole: 

24 That counterworks each folly and caprice; 
That disappoints th' effect of ev'ry vice: 
That, happy frailties to all ranks apply'd, 
Shame to the virgin, to the matron pride, 

Fear to the statesman, rashness to the chief, 
To kings presumption, and to crowds belief: 
That, virtue's ends from vanity can raise, 
Which seeks no int'rest, no reward but praise; 
And build on wants, and on defects of mind, 
The joy, the peace, the glory of mankind. 

25 Heav'n, forming each on other to depend, 
A master, or a servant, or a friend, 



Bids each on other for assistance call, 

Till one man's weakness grows the strength of all. 

Wants, frailties, passions, closer still ally 

The common interest, or endear the tie. 

26 To these we owe true friendship, love sincere. 
Each home-felt joy that life inherits here: 
Yet from the same we learn, in its decline, 
Those joys, those loves, those interests to resign: 
Taught half by reason, half by mere decay, 
To welcome death, and calmly pass away. 

21 Whatever the passion, knowledge, fame, or pelf, 
i Not one will change his neighbor with himself. 
The learn'd is happy nature to explore, 
The fool is happy that he knows no more; 
The rich is happy in the plenty giv'n, 
The poor contents him with the care of Heav'n. 

2S See the blind beggar dance, the cripple sing, 
The sot a hero, lunatic a king; 
The starving chymist in his golden views 
Supremely blest, the poet in his muse. 
See some strange comfort ev'ry state attend, 
And pride bestow'd on all, a common friend; 
See some fit passion ev'ry age supply, 
Hope travels through, nor quits us when we die. 

29 Behold the child, by nature's kindly law, 
Pleas'd with a rattle, tickled with a straw; 
Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight, 
A little louder, but as empty quite: 

Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage; 
And beads and pray'r-books are the toys of age: 
Pleas'd with this bauble still, as that before; 
Tin tir'd he sleeps, and life's poor play is o'er! 

30 Meanwhile opinion gilds with varying rays 
Those painted clouds that beautify our days; 
Each want of happiness by hope supply 'd; 

And each vacuity of sense by pride: 

These build as fast as knowledge can destroy; 

In folly's cup still laughs the bubble, joy; 

One prospect lost, another still we gain$ 

And not a vanity is giv'n in vain; 

Ev'n mean self-love becomes, by force divine, 

The scale to measure others' wants by thine. 

See! and confess one comfort still must rise; 

'Tis this, though man's a fool, yet God is ivise. 



274 

EPISTLE III. 

Of the Nature and State of Man, with respect to 
Society. 

Here then we rest: " The universal cause 
u Acts to one end, but acts by various laws." 
In all the madness of superfluous health, 
The trim of pride, the impudence of wealth, 
Let this great truth be present night and day; 
But most be present, if we preach or pray. 

2 Look round our world; behold* the chain of love 
Combining all below and all above. 

See plastic nature working to this end, 
The single atoms each to other tend, 
Attract, attracted too, the next in place 
Formed and impell'd its neighbor to embrace. 
See matter next, with various life endu'd, 
Press to one centre still, the gen'ral good. 

3 See dying vegetables life sustain, 
See life dissolving vegetate again: 

All forms that perish other forms supply, 
(By turns we catch the vital breath, and die:) 
Like bubbles on the sea of matter borne, 
They rise, they break, and to that sea return. 

4 Nothing is foreign; parts relate to whole; 
One all-extending, all-preserving soul 
Connects each being, greatest with the least; 
Made beast in aid of man, and man of beast; 
AH serv'd, all serving: nothing stands alone; 
The chain holds on, and where it ends, unknown. 

5 Has God, thou fool ! workM solely for thy good, 
Thy joy, thy pastime, thy attire, thy food? 

Who for thy table feeds the wanton fawn, 
For him as kindly spreads the flowery lawn. 
Is it for thee the lark ascends and sings? 
Joy tunes his voice, joy elevates his wings. 
Is it for thee the linnet pours his throat? 
Loves of his own, and raptures swell the note. 

6 The bounding steed you pompously bestride, 
Shares with his lord the pleasure and the pride. 

Is thine alone the seed that strews the plain? 
The birds of heav'n shall vindicate their grain. 
Thine the full harvest of the golden year? 
Part pays, and justly, the deserving steer: 



The hog, that plows not, nor obeys thy call, 
Lives on the labors of this lord of all. 

7 Know, nature's children all divide her care; 
The fur that warms a monarch, warm'd a bear. 
While man exclaims, " See all things for my use!" 
" See man for mine!" replies a pamper'd goose: 
And just as short of reason he must fall, 

Who thinks all made for one, not one for all. 

8 Grant that the powerful still the weak control, 
Be man the wit and tyrant of the whole: 
Nature that tyrant checks; he only knows, 

And helps, another creature's wants and woes. 
Say, will the falcon, stooping from above, 
Smit with her varying plumage, spare the dove? 
Admires the jay the insect's gilded wings? 
Or hears the hawk when Philomela sings? 

9 Man cares for all: to birds he gives his woods, 
To beasts his pastures, and to fish his floods; 

For some his int'rest prompts him to provide, 
For more his pleasure, yet for more his pride: 
All feed on one vain patron, and enjoy 
The extensive blessing of his luxury. 

10 That very life his learned hunger craves, 
He saves from famine, from the savage saves: 
Nay, feasts the animal, he dooms his feast, 
And, till he ends the being, makes it blest; 
Which sees no more the stroke, nor feels the pain, 
Than favor'd man by touch ethereal slain:* 

The creature had his feast of life before; 
Thou too must perish when thy feast is o'er. 

11 To each unthinking being, Heav'n a friend, 
Gives not the useless knowledge of its end; 

To man imparts it; but with such a view 
As, while he dreads it, makes him hope it too: 
The hour conceal'd, and so remote the fear, 
Death still draws nearer, never seeming near. 
Great standing miracle! that Heav'n assigned 
Its only thinking thing this turn of mind. 

12 Whether with reason, or with instinct blest, 
Know, all enjoy that power which suits them best: 

* Several of the ancients, and many of the orientals since, esteemed 
those who were struck by lightning as sacred persons and the particulai 
favorites of heaven. 



27b 

To bliss alike by that direction tend, 
And find the means proportioned to their end. 
Say, where full instinct is th' unerring guide, 
What pope or council can they need beside? 

13 Reason, however able, cool at best, 
Cares not for service, or but serves when prest, 
Stays till we call, and then not often near! 
But honest instinct comes a volunteer; 

Sure never to o'ershoot, but just to hit, 
While still too wide or short is human wit; 
Sure by quick nature happiness to gain, 
Which heavier reason labors at in vain. 

14 This too serves always, Reason never long; 
One must go right, the other may go wrong. 
See then the acting and comparing powers, 

One in their nature, which are two in ours; 
And reason raise o'er instinct as you can, 
In this 'tis God directs, and that 'tis man. 

15 Who taught the nations of the field and wood 
To shun their poison, and to choose their food? 
Prescient, the tides or tempests to withstand, 
Build on the wave, or arch beneath the sand? 

Who made the spider parallels design, 
Sure as De Moivre, without rule or line? 
Who bid the stork, Columbus-like, explore 
Heav'ns not his own, and worlds unknown before? 
Who calls the council, states the certain day, 
Who forms the phalanx, and who points the way? 

16 God, in the nature of each being, founds 
Its proper bliss, and sets its proper bounds: 
But, as he framM the whole, the whole to bless, 
On mutual wants built mutual happiness: 

So from the first, eternal order ran, 

And creature link'd to creature, man to man. 

Whatever of life all-quick'ning ether keeps, 

Or breathes through air, or shoots beneath the deeps, 

Or pours profuse on earth, one nature feeds 

The vital flame, and swells the genial seeds. 

17 Not man alone, but all that roam the wood, 
Or wing the sky, or roll along the flood, 

Each loves itself, but not itself alone, 

Each sex desires alike, till two are one. 

Thus beast and bird their common charge attend, 

The mothers nurse it, and the sires defend; 



The young dismissed to wander earth or air, 
There stops the instinct, and there ends the care. 

18 A longer care man's helpless kind demands; 
That longer care contracts more lasting bands: 
Reflection, reason, still the ties improve, 

At once extend the interest and the love; 
With choice we fix, with sympathy we burn ; 
Each virtue in each passion takes its turn; 
And still new needs, new helps, new habits rise, 
That graft benevolence on charities. 

19 Still as one brood, and as another rose, 
These natural love maintained, habitual those: 
The last, scarce ripen' d into perfect man, 
Saw helpless him from whom their life began: 
Memory and forecast just returns engage, 
That pointed back to youth, this on to age; 
While pleasure, gratitude, and hope combined, 
Still spread the int'rest, and preserved the kind. 

20 Nor think, in nature's state they blindly trod; 
The state of nature was the reign of God: 
Self-love and social at her birth began, 

Union the bond of all things, and of man. 
Pride then was not; nor arts, that pride to aid: 
Man walkM with beast, joint tenant of the shade; 
The same his table, and the same his bed; 
No murder cloth'd him, and no murder fed. 

21 In the same temple, the resounding wood, 
All vocal beings hymn'd their equal God: 

The shrine with gore unstained, with gold undrest, 
Unbrib'd, unbloody, stood the blameless priest: 
Heav'n's attribute w T as universal care, 
And man's prerogative, to rule, but spare. 
Ah! how unlike the man of times to come! 
Of half that live, the butcher, and the tomb; 
Who, foe to nature, hears the general groan, 
Murders their species, and betrays his own. 

22 But just disease to luxury succeeds, 
And every death its own avenger breeds; 
The fury passions from that blood began, 
And turn'd on man a fiercer savage, man. 

23 Converse and love, mankind might strongly draw, 
When love was liberty, and nature law. 

Love all the faith, and all th' allegiance then; 
For nature knew no rieht divine in men: 
Aa 5 



278 
No ill could fear in God; and understood 
A sovereign being, but a sovereign good. 
True faith, true policy, united ran, 
That was but love of God, and this of man. 

24 Who first taught souls enslav'd, and realms undone, 
Th' enormous faith of many made for one; 

That proud exception to all nature's laws, 

T' invert the world, and counterwork its cause? 

Force first made conquest, and that conquest, law; 

Till superstition taught the tyrant awe. 

Then shar'd the tyranny, then lent it aid, 

And gods of conquerors, slaves of subjects made: 

She, 'midst the lightning's blaze, and thunder's sound, 

When rock'd the mountains, and when groan'd the ground, 

She taught the weak to bend, the proud to pray, 

To power unseen, and mightier far than they: 

25 She, from the rending earth, and bursting skies, 
Saw gods descend, and fiends infernal rise: 

Here fix'd the dreadful, there the blest abodes; 
Fear made her devils, and weak hope her gods; 
Gods partial, changeful, passionate, unjust, 
Whose attributes were rage, revenge or lust; 
Such as the souls of cowards might conceive, 
And, form'd like tyrants, tyrants would believe. 

26 Zeal then, not charity, became the guide, 
And hell was built on spite, and heav'n on pride. 
Then sacred seem'd th' ethereal vault no more; 
Altars grew marble then, and reek'd with gore: 
Then first the Flamen tasted living food; 

Next his grim idol smear'd with human blood. 

21 So drives self-love, through just, and through unjust, 
To one man's power, ambition, lucre, lust: 
The same self-love, in all, becomes the cause 
Of what restrains him, government and laws. 

28 For, what one likes, if others like as well, 
What serves one will, when many wills rebel, 
How shall he keep, what, sleeping or awake, 
A weaker may surprise, a stronger take? 
His safety must his liberty restrain: 
All join'd to guard what each desires to gain. 
Forc'd into virtue thus, by seJf-defenee, 
E'en kings learn'd justice and benevolence: 
Self-love forsook the path it first pursu'd, 
And found the private in the public good. 



279 

29 Such is the world's great harmony, that springs 
From order, union, full consent of things: 

Where small and great, where weak and mighty, made 
To serve, not suffer, strengthen, not invade; 
Mare powerful each as needful to the rest, 
And, in proportion as it blesses, blest 

30 For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight; 
His can't be wrong whose life is in the right: 

In faith and hope the world will disagree, 
But all mankind's concern is charity: 
All must be false that thwarts this one great end, 
And all of God, that bless mankind, or mend. 

31 Man, like the gen'rous vine, supported lives; 
The strength he gains is from th' embrace he gives. 
On their own axis as the planets run, 

Yet make at once their circle round the sun; 
So two consistent motions acts the soul; 
And one regards itself, and one the whole. 
Thus God and nature link'd the general frame, 
And bade self-love and social be the same. 



EPISTLE IV. 

Of the Nature and State of Man, with respect to 

Happiness. 

1 happiness! our being's end and aim; 
Good, pleasure, ease, content! whate'er thy name: 
That something still which prompts th' eternal sigh, 
For which we bear to live, or dare to die, 

Which still so near us, yet beyond us lies, 
O'erlook'd, seen double, by the fool and wise. 
Plant of celestial seed; if dropt below, 
Say, in what mortal soil thou deign'st to grow? 

2 Fair op'ning to some court's propitious shrine, 
Or deep with di'monds in the flaming mine? 
Twin'd with the wreaths Parnassian laurels yield, 
Or reap'd in iron harvests of the field? 

Where grows? — Where grows it not? — if vain our toil, 

We ought to blame the culture, not the soil: 

Fix'd to no spot is happiness sincere, 

*Tis no where to be found, or ev'ry where: 

*Tis never to be bought, but always free, 

And, fled from monarchs, St. John! dwells with thee. 

3 Ask of the learn'd the way? The learnM are blind: 
This bids to serve, and that to shun mankind; 



280 

Some place the bliss in action, some in ease, 
Those call it pleasure, and contentment these; 
Some, sunk to beasts, find pleasure end in pain; 
Some, swell'd to gods, confess e'en virtue vain; 
Or indolent, to each extreme they fall, 
To trust in every thing, or doubt of all. 
Who thus define it, say they more or less 
Than this, That happiness is happiness? 

4 Take Nature's path, and mad Opinion's leave; 
All states can reach it, and all heads conceive; 
Obvious her goods, in no extreme they dwell; 
There needs but thinking right, and meaning well: 
And, mourn our various portions as we please, 
Equal is common sense, and common ease. 

5 Remember, man, " the Universal Cause 
u Acts not by partial, but by general laws;" 
And makes what happiness we justly call, 
Subsist not in the good of one, but all. 
There's not a blessing individuals find, 

But some way leans and hearkens to the kind: 
No bandit fierce, no tyrant mad with pride, 
No cavern'd hermit, rests self-satisfied: 

6 Who most to shun or hate mankind pretend, 
Seek an admirer, or would fix a friend: 
Abstract what others feel, what others think, 
All pleasures sicken, and all glories sink: 

Each has his share; and who would more obtain, 
Shall find, the pleasure pays not half the pain. 

7 ORDER is Heaven's first law; and this confest, 
Some are, and must be, greater than the rest, 
More rich, more wise; but who infers from hence 
That such are happier, shocks all common sense. 
Heaven to mankind impartial we confess, , 

If all are equal in their happiness; 

But mutual wants this happiness increase; 

All nature's diff'rence keeps all nature's peace. 

8 Condition, circumstance is not the thing; 
Bliss is the same in subject or in king. 

In who obtain defence, or who defend, 

In him who is, or him who finds a friend: 

Heaven breathes through ev'ry member of the whole 

One common blessing, as one common soul. 

But fortune's gifts, if each alike possest, 

And each were equal, must not all contest? 



261 

If then to all men happiness was meant, 
God in externals could not place content. 

9 Fortune her gifts may variously dispose, 
And these be happy call'd, unhappy those; 
But Heav'n's just balance equal will appear, 
While those are plac'd in hope, and these in fear: 
Not present good or ill, the joy or curse, 

But future views of better, or of worse. 

10 sons of earth! attempt ye still to rise, 
By mountains pil'd on mountains, to the skies? 
Heaven still with laughter the vain toil surveys, 
And buries madmen in the heaps they raise. 

11 Know, all the good that individuals find, 
Or God and nature meant to mere mankind, 
Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, 
Lie in three words, health, peace, and competenoe. 
But health consists with temperance alone; 

And peace, virtue! peace is all thy own. 
The good or bad the gifts of fortune gain; 
But these less taste them, as they worse obtain. 

12 Say, in pursuit of profit or delight, 

Who risk the most, that take wrong means or.right? 
Of vice or virtue, whether blest or curst, 
Which meets contempt, or which compassion first? 
Count all th' advantage prosperous vice attains, 
? Tis but what virtue flies from and disdains: 
And grant the bad what happiness they would, 
One they must want, which is, to pass for good. 

13 blind to truth, and God's whole scheme below, 
Who fancy bliss to vice, to virtue wo! 

Who sees and follows that great scheme the best, 
Best knows the blessing, and will most be blest. 
But fools, the good alone, unhappy call, 
For ills or accidents that chance to all. 

14 See Falkland dies, the virtuous and the just! 
See godlike Turenne prostrate on the dust! 

See Sidney bleeds amid the martial strife! 

Was this their virtue, or contempt of life? 

Say, was it virtue, more though Heav'n ne'er gave, 

Lamented Digby! sunk thee to the grave? 

15 Tell me, if virtue made the son expire, 
Why, full of days and honor, lives the sire? 
Why drew Marseilles' good bishop purer breath, 
When nature sieken'd, and each gale was death? 

Aa2 



282 

Or why so long (in life if long can be) 
Lent Heaven a parent to the poor and me? 

16 What makes all physical or moral ill? 
There deviates nature, and here wanders will. 
God sends not ill, if rightly understood, 

Or partial ill is universal good, 

Or change admits, or nature lets it fall, 

Short, and but rare, till man improv'd it all. 

Think we, like some weak prince, th' Eternal Cause 

Prone for his favorites to reverse his laws ? 

17 Shall burning Etna, if a sage requires,* 
Forget to thunder, and recall her fires? 

On air or sea new motions be imprest, 

blameless Bethel! to relieve thy breast? 

When the loose mountain trembles from on high, 

Shall gravitation cease, if you go by? 

Or some old temple, nodding to its fall, 

For Chartres' head reserve the hanging wall? 

IS But still this world (so fitted for the knave) 
Contents us not. A better shall we have? 
A kingdom of the just then let it be: 
But first consider how those just agree. 
The good must merit Cod's peculiar care; 
But who, but God, can tell us who they are? 
One thinks on Calvin Heaven's own spirit fell, 
Another deems him instrument of hell; 
If Calvin feel Heaven's blessing, or its rod, 
This cries, there is, and that, there is no God. 

19 What shocks one part will edify the rest, 
Nor with one system can they all be blest; 
The very best will variously incline, 

And what rewards your virtue, punish mine. 
"Whatever is, is right." — This world, 'tis true, 
Was made for Caesar— but for Titus too : 
And which more blest? Who chain'd his country, say, 
Or he whose virtue sigh'd to lose a day? 

20 "But sometimes virtue starves, while vice is fed." 
What then? Is the reward of virtue bread? 

That, vice may merit, 'tis the price of toil; 
The knave deserves it, when he tills the soil. 



* Alluding to the fate of those two great naturalists, Empedocles and 
Pliny, who both perished by too near an approach to Etna and Vesuvius, 
while they were exploring the cause of their eruptions 



283 
The knave deserves it, when he tempts tlie main, 
Where folly fights for kings, or dives for gain. 
The good man may be weak, be indolent; 
Nor is his claim to plenty, but content. 

21 But grant him riches, your demand is o'er? 
"No: shall the good want health, the good want power?** 
Add health and power, and ev'ry earthly thing; 

" Why bounded pow'r? why private? why no king? 
" Nay, why external for internal giv'n? 
" Why is not man a God and earth a heav'n?" 
Who ask and reason thus, will scarce conceive 
God gives enough, while he has more to give; 
Immense the pow'r, immense were the demand; 
Say, at what part of nature will they stand? 

22 What nothing earthly gives or call destroy, 
The soul's calm sun-shine, and the heart-felt joy, 
Is virtue's prize: a better would you fix? 

Then give humility a coach and six, 

Justice a conqu'ror's sword, or truth a gown, 

Or public spirit, its great cure, a crown. 

Weak, foolish man ! will Heav'n reward us there 

With the same trash mad mortals wish for here? 

The boy and man an individual makes, 

Yet sigh'st thou now for apples and for cakes? 

23 Go, like the Indian, in another life, 
Expect thy dog, thy bottle, and thy wife; 
As well as dream such trifles are assigned, 
As toys and empires for a godlike mind. 
Rewards, that either would to virtue bring 
No joy, or be destructive of the thing; 
How oft by these at sixty are undone 
The virtues of a saint at twenty-one! 

24 To whom can riches give repute, or trust, 
Content or pleasure, but the good and just? 
Judges and senates have been bought for gold; 
Esteem and love were never to be sold. 

fool ! to think God hates the worthy mind, 
The lover and the love of human-kind, / 

I Whose life is healthful, and whose conscience clear, 
Because he wants a thousand pounds a year. 

25 Honor and shame from no condition rise; 
Act well your part, there all the honor lies. 
Fortune in men has some small difference made, 
One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade; 



284 
The cobbler apron'd, and the parson gown'd, 
The friar hooded, and the monarch crown'd. 

26 " What differ more (you cry) than crown and cowl?*' 
I'll tell you, friend! a wise man and a fool. 

You'll find, if once the monarch acts the monk, 
Or, cobbler-like, the parson will be drunk, 
Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow: 
The rest is all but leather or prunello. 

27 Stuck o'er with titles and hung round with strings, 
That thou may'st be by kings, or slaves of kings, 
Boast the pure blood of an illustrious race, 

In quiet flow from Lucrece to Lucrece: 

But by your fathers' worth if yours you rate, 

Count me those only who were good and great. 

2S Go! if your ancient, but ignoble blood 
Has crept through scoundrels ever since the flood, 
Go ! and pretend your family is young! 
" Nor own your fathers have been fools so long. 
What can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cowards? 
Alas! not all the blood of all the Howards. 

29 Look next on greatness; say where greatness lies? 
" Where, but among the heroes and the wise?" 
Heroes are much the same, the point's agreed, 

From Macedonia's madman to the Swede; 

The whole strange purpose of their lives, to find 

Or make an enemy of all mankind! 

Not one looks backward, onward still he goes, 

Yet ne'er looks forward further than his nose. 

30 No less alike the politic and wise; 

All sly-slow things, with circumspective eyes: 
Men in their loose unguarded hours they take, 
Not that themselves are wise, but others weak. 
But grant that those can conquer, these can cheat-j 
? Tis phrase absurd to call a villain great: 
Who wickedly is wise,* or madly brave, 
Is but the more a fool, the more a knave. 

31 Who noble ends by noble means obtains, 
Or failing, smiles in exile or in chains, 

Like good Aurelius let him reign, or bleed 
Like Socrates, that man is great indeed. 



* This is a solecism : wickedness and wisdom are incompatible. Wick 
edness is an infallible evidence of folly and mental imbecility.— Comp. 



2S5 

32 What's fame? a fancy'd life in others' breath, 
A thing beyond us, e'en before our death. 

Just what you hear, you have, and what's unknown 

The same (my lord) if Tully's or your own. 

All that we feel of it begins and ends 

In the small circle of our foes or friends; 

To all beside as much an empty shade 

An Eugene living, as a Caesar dead; 

Alike or when, or where they shone or shine, 

Or on the Rubicon, or on the Rhine. 

33 A wit's a feather, and a chief's a rod; 
An honest man's the noblest work of God. 
Fame but from death a villain's name can save, 
As justice tears his body from the grave; 
When what t' oblivion better were resigned, 

Is hung on high, to poison half mankind. 

34 All fame is foreign, but of true desert; 
Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart: 
One self-approving hour whole years outweighs 
Of stupid starers, and of loud huzzas; 

And more true joy Marcellus exil'd feels, 
Than Caesar with a senate at his heels. 

35 In parts superior what advantage lies? 
Tell (for you can) what is it to be wise? 
Truths would you teach, or save a sinking land? 
All fear, none aid you, and few understands 
Painful pre-eminence! yourself to view 
Above life's weakness, and its comforts too. 

36 Bring then these blessings to a strict account; 
Make fair deductions; see to what they 'mount: 
How much of other each is sure to cost; 

How each for other oft is wholly lost; 
How inconsistent greater goods with these; 
How sometimes life is risk'd, and always ease: 
Think, and if still the things thy envy call, 
Say, would'st thou be the man to whom they fall? 

37 To sigh for ribands if thou art so silly, 
Mark how they grace Lord Umbra, or Sir Billy. 
Is yellow dirt the passion of thy life? 

Look but on Gripus, or on Gripus' wife. 
If parts allure thee, think how Bacon shin'd, 
The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind: 
Or, ravish'd with the whistling of a name, 
See Cromwell damn'd to everlasting fame! 



286 

38 If all, united, thy ambition call, 
From ancient story, learn to scorn them all. 
There, in the rich, the honor'd, fam'd, and great, 
See tj*e false scale of happiness complete! 

39 Mark by what wretched steps their glory grows, 
From dirt and sea- weed, as proud Venice rose; 

In each how guilt and greatness equal ran, 
And all that rais'd the hero, sunk the man; 
Now Europe's laurels on their brows behold, 
But stained with blood, or ill exchanged for gold: 
Then see them brdke with toils, or sunk in ease, 
Or infamous for plundered provinces. 

40 wealth ill-fated ! which no act of fame 
E'er taught to shine, or sanctify 'd from shame! 
What greater bliss attends their close of life? 
Some greedy minion, or imperious wife, 

The trophy'd arches, story'd halls invade, 

And haunt their slumbers in the pompous shade. 

Alas! not dazzled with their noon-tide ray, 

Compute the morn and ev'ning to the day; 

The whole amount of that enormous fame, 

A tale, that blends their glory with their shame! 

41 Know then this truth (enough for man to know) 
"Virtue alone is happiness below." 

The only point where human bliss stands still, 
And tastes the good without the fall to ill; 
Where only merit constant pay receives, 
Is blest in what It takes, and what it gives; 
The joy unequall'd, if its end it gain, 
And if it lose, attended with no pain: 

42 Without satiety, though e'er so bless'd, 
And but more relish'd as the more distressed: 
The broadest mirth unfeeling Folly wears, 
Less pleasing far than Virtue's very tears: 
Good, from each object, from each place acquir'd, 
For ever exercis'd, yet never tir'd; 

Never elated, while one man's oppress'd; 
Never dejected, while another's bless'd; 
And where no wants, no wishes can remain, 
Since but to wish more virtue is to gain. 

43 See the sole bliss Heav'n could on all bestow! 
Which who but feels can taste, but thinks can know: 
Yet poor with fortune, and with learning blind, 
The bad must miss, the good untaught will find; 



2£7 
Slave to no sect, who takes no private road, 
But looks through nature up to nature's God: 

44 Pursues that chain which links th' immense design, 
Joins heav'n and earth, and mortal and divine; 

Sees, that no being any bliss can know, 
But touches some above, and some below; 
Learns, from this union of the rising whole, 
The first, last purpose of the human soul; 
And knows where faith, law, morals, all began, 
All end, in Love of God. and Love of Man. 

45 For him alone, hope leads from goal to goal, 
And opens still, and opens on his soul; 

Till lengthened on to faith, and unconfin'd, 
It pours the bliss that fills up all the mind. 

46 He sees, why nature plants in man alone 
Hope of known bliss, and faith in bliss unknown: 
(Nature, whose dictates to no other kind 

Are giv'n in vain, but what they seek they find) 
Wise is her present; she connects in this 
His greatest virtue with his greatest bliss; 
At once his own bright prospect to be blest, 
And strongest motive to assist the rest. 

47 Self-love thus push'd to social, to divine, f . 
Gives thee to make thy neighbor's blessing thine. 

Is this too little for thy boundless heart? 

Extend it, let thy enemies have part: 

Grasp the whole worlds of reason, life, and sense, 

In one close system of benevolence: 

Happier as kinder, in whate'er degree, 

And height of bliss but height of charity. 

4S God loves from whole to parts; but human soul 
Must rise from individual to the whole. 
Self-love but serves the virtuous mind to wake, 
As the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake; 
The centre mov'd, a circle straight succeeds, 
Another still, and still another spreads: 
Friend, parent, neighbor, first it will embrace, 
His country next, and next all human race; 
Wide and more wide, the o'erflowings of the mind 
Take every creature in, of every kind; 
Earth smiles around, with boundless bounty blest, 
And Heav'n beholds its image in his breast. 

49 Come then, my friend, my genius, come along, 
O master of the poet, and the song! 



23S 

And while the muse now stoops, or now ascends, 
To man's low passions, or their glorious ends, 
Teach me, like thee, in various nature wise, 
To fall with dignity, with temper rise; 
Form'd by thy converse, happily to steer 
From grave to gay, from lively to severe; 
Correct with spirit, eloquent with ease, 
Intent to reason, or polite to please. 

50 ! while along the stream of time thy name 
Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame; 

Say, shall my little bark attendant sail, 
Pursue the triumph, and partake the gale? 
When statesmen, heroes, kings, in dust repose, 
Whose sons shall blush their fathers were thy foes^ 
Shall then this verse to future age pretend 
Thou wert my guide, philosopher and friend! 

51 That, urg'd by thee, I turn'd the tuneful art, 
From sounds to things, from fancy to the heart; 
For wit's false mirror held up nature's light; 
Shew'd erring pride, whatever is, is right; 
That reason, passion, answer one great aim; 
That true self-love and social are the same; 

That virtue only makes our bliss below; 
And all our knowledge is, ourselves to knoiv? 



SECTION V. 
The Universal Prayer. 

Deo Optimo Maximo- 

1 Father of All ! in ev'ry age, 

In ev'ry clime ador'd, 
By saint, by savage, and by sage, 
Jehovah, Jove, or Lord ! 

2 Thou Great First Cause, least understood; 

Who all my sense confin'd 
To know but this, that Thou art good, 
And that myself am blind; 

[Note. — Several passages of the Essay on Man, some of which are 
more calculated to display dexterous feats of a vaulting' imagination, than 
to impart demonstrable moral truth to the youthful mind ; — and others 
being characterized by unnecessary amplification, and sometimes by a 
roughness of expression, unsuited to the more refined taste of the present 
age, have been omitted by the Compiler, as not being adapted, in his 
judgment, for class-reading in our public schools.] 



289 

Yet gave me, in this dark estate, 

To see the good from ill; 
And, binding nature fast ia fate, 

Left free the human will. 

3 What conscience dictates to be done, 

Or warns me not to do, 
This, teach me more than hell to shun, 
That, more than heav'n pursue. 

4 What blessings thy free bounty gives, 

Let me not cast away; 
For God is paid when man receives, 
T* enjoy, is to obey. 

5 Yet not to earth's contracted span, 

Thy goodness let me bound, 
Or think Thee Lord alone of man, 

When thousand worlds are round: 
Let not this weak, unknowing hand 

Presume thy bolts to throw, 
• And deal damnation round the land, 

On each I judge thy foe: 

6 If I am right, thy grace impart, 

Still in the right to stay; 
If I am wrong, O teach my heart 
To find that better way. 

7 Save me alike from foolish pride, 

Or impious discontent, 
At aught thy wisdom has deny'd, 
Or aught thy goodness lent. 

8 Teach me to feel another's wo ; 

To hide the fault I see : 

That mercy I to others show, 

That mercy show to me. 

9 Mean though I am, not wholly so, 

Since quieken'd by thy breath; 
lead me, wheresoe'er I go, 
Through this day's life or death. 

10 This day be bread and peace my lot: 

All else beneath the sun, 
Thou know'st if best bestow'd or not, 
And let thy will be done. 

11 To Thee, whose temple is all space, 

Whose altar, earth, sea, skies! 
One chorus let all beings raise! 

All nature's incense rise! 
Bb 



290 
CHAPTER II. 

FRAGMENTS FROM THOMSON^ SEASONS. 

SECTION I. 
Early rising, — Address to the Sun! 

1 Falsely luxurious! will not man awake; 
And, springing from the bed of sloth, enjoy 
The cool, the fragrant, and the silent hour, 
To meditation due and sacred song? 

For is there aught in sleep can charm the wise? 
To lie in dead oblivion, losing half 
The fleeting moments of too short a life; 
Total extinction of the enlightened soul! 

2 Or else to feverish vanity alive, 

Wilder'd, and tossing through distempered dreams? 
Who would in suck a gloomy state remain 
Longer than nature craves; when every Muse 
And every blooming pleasure wait without, 
To bless the wildly devious morning walk? 

3 But yonder comes the powerful King of Day, 
Rejoicing in the east. The lessening cloud, 

The kindling azure, and the mountain's brow 

Illum'd with fluid gold, his near approach 

Betoken glad. Lo! now, apparent all, 

Aslant the dew-bright earth, and colorM air, 

He looks in boundless majesty abroad; 

And sheds the shining day, that burnished plays 

On rocks, and hills, and tow'rs, and wand'ring streams, 

High gleaming from afar. Prime cheerer, Light! 

Of all material beings first, and best! 

Efflux divine ! Nature's resplendent robe ! 

Without whose vesting beauty all were wrapt 

In unessential gloom; and thou, Sun! 

Soul of surrounding worlds ! in whom best seen 

Shines out thy Maker! may I sing of thee? 

4 'Tis by thy secret, strong, attractive force, 
As with a chain indissoluble bound, 

Thy system rolls entire: from the far bourne 
Of utmost Saturn, wheeling wide his round 
Of thirty years; to Mercury, whose disk 
Can scarce be caught by philosophic eye, 
Lost in the near effulgence of thy blaze. 
Informer of the planetary train ! 



291 

Without whose quickening glance their cumbrous orbs 

Were brute unlovely mass, inert and dead, 

And not, as now, the green abodes of life. 

How many forms of being wait on thee, 

Inhaling spirit! from the unfetter'd mind, 

By thee sublinr'd, down to the daily race, 

The mixing myriads of thy setting beam. 

SECTION II. 
Charity. 
1 Be not too narrow, husbandmen! but fling 
From the full sheaf, with charitable stealth, 
The liberal handful. Think, oh! grateful think 1 
How good the God of harvest is to you; 
Who pours abundance o'er your flowing fields; 
While these unhappy partners of your kind 
Wide-hover round you, like the fowls of heaven, 
And ask their humble dole. The various turns 
Of fortune ponder; that your sons may want 
What now, with hard reluctance, faint, ye give. 

SECTION III. 
Primeval Innocence. 

1 Then spring the living herbs, profusely wild, 
O'er all the deep-green earth, beyond the power 
Of ^botanists to number up their tribes: 
Whether he steals along the lonely dale, 

In silent search; or through the forest, rank 
With what the dull incurious weeds account, 
Bursts his blind way; or climbs the mountain rock, 
FirM by the nodding verdure of its brow. 

2 With such a liberal hand has nature flung 
Their seeds abroad, blown them about in winds, 
Innumerous mixed them with the nursing mould, 
The moistening current, and prolific rain. 

3 But who their virtues can declare? who pierce, 
With vision pure, into the secret stores 

Of health, and life, and joy? The food of Man, 
While yet he liv'd in innocence, and told * 
A length of golden years; unfleshM in blood, 
A stranger to the savage arts of life, 
Death, rapine, carnage, surfeit, and disease j- 
The lord, and not the tyrant, of the world. 

4 Nor yet injurious act, nor surly deed, 



292 

Was known among those happy sons of heaven - 7 
For reason and benevolence were law. 

5 And yet the wholesome herb neglected dies; 
Though with the pure exhilarating soul 

Of nutriment and health, and vital powers, 

Beyond the search of art, *tis copious blest. 

For, with hot ravine fir'd, ensanguined Man 

Is now become the lion of the plain, 

And worse. The wolf, who from the nightly fold 

Fierce drags the bleating prey, ne'er drunk her milk 

Nor wore her warming fleece: nor has the steer, 

At whose strong chest the deadly tiger hangs, 

E'er plow'd for him. They too are tempered high, 

With hunger stung and wild necessity, 

Nor lodges pity in their shaggy breast. 

6 But Man, whom Nature formed of milder clay, 
With every kind emotion in his heart, 

And taught alone to weep; while from her lap 

She pours ten thousand delicacies, herbs, 

And fruits, as numerous as the drops of rain 

Or beams that gave them birth: shall he, fair form! 

Who wears sweet smiles, and looks erect on heaven, 

E'er stoop to mingle with the prowling herd, 

And dip his tongue in gore? 



SECTION IV. 
Barbarity of hunting and shooting merely for sport 

1 Here the rude clamor of the sportsman's joy, 
The gun fast thundering, and the winded horn, 
Would tempt the Muse to sing the rural game: 

These are not subjects for the peaceful Muse, 
Nor will she stain with such her spotless song: 

2 Then most delighted, when she social sees 
The whole mix'd animal-creation round 
Alive, and happy. 'Tis not joy to her, 

This falsely-cheerful barbarous game of death, 
This rage of pleasure, which the restless youth 
Awakes, impatient, with the gleaming morn: 

3 When beasts of prey retire; that all night long, 
Urg'd by necessity, had rang'd the dark, 

As if their conscious ravage shunn'd the light, 
Asham'd. Not so the steady tyrant Man, 
Who with the thoughtless insolence of power 
Inflam'd, beyond the most infuriate wrath 



293 

Of the worst monster that e'er roam'd t^e waste, 
For sport alone pursues the cruel chase, 
Amid the beamings of the gentle days. 

4 Upbraid, ye ravening tribes, our wanton rage, 
For hunger kindles you, and lawless want; 
But lavish fed, in Nature's bounty roll'd, 
To joy at anguish, and delight in. blood, 
Is what your horrid bosoms never knew. 

* SECTION V. 

Address to Philosophy: — advantages of science, arU 9 
and civilization. 

1 With thee, serene Philosophy, with thee, 
And thy bright garland, let me crown my song! 
Effusive source of evidence, and truth! 

A lustre shedding o'er W ennobled mind, 
Stronger than summer-noon; and pure as that, 
Whose mild vibrations soothe the parted soul, 
$Iew to the dawning of celestial day. 

2 Hence through her nourish'd powers, enlarged bv the*; 
She springs aloft, with elevated pride, 

Above the tangling mass of low desires, 

That bind the fluttering crowd; and, angel-wing'd, 

The heights of < science and of virtue gains, 

Where all is calm and clear; with Nature round, 

Or in the starry regions, or th' abyss, 

To Reason's and to Fancy's eye display 'd: 

, 3 The First up-tracing, from the dreary void, 
The chain of causes and effects to Him, 
The world-producing Essence, who alone 
Possesses being; while the Last receives 
The whole magnificence of heaven and earth, 
And every beauty, delicate or bold, 
Obvious or more remote, with livelier sense, 
Diffusive painted on the rapid mind. 

4 Tutor'd by thee, hence Poetry exalts 
Her voice to ages; and informs the page 
With music, image, sentiment, and thought, 
Never to die! the treasure of mankind! 
Their highest honor, and their truest joy! 
Without thee what were unenlighten'd Man? 

5 A savage roaming through the woods and wilds, 
In quest of prey ; and with th' unfashion'd fur 
Rough-clad ; devoid of every finer art, 

Bb2 



294 

And elegance of life. Nor happiness 
Domestic, mix'd of tenderness and care, 
Nor moral excellence, nor sociarbliss, 
Nor guardian law were his; nor various skill 
To turn the furrow, or to guide the tool 
Mechanic; noi the heaven-conductedprow 
Of navigation bold, that fearless braves 
The burning line, or dares the wintry pole: 
Mother severe of infinite delights! 

6 Nothing, save rapine, indolence, and guile, 
And woes on woes, a still-revolving train! 
Whose horrid circle had made human life 
Than non-existence worse: but, taught by thee, 
Ours are the plans of policy and peace; 

To live like brothers, and conjunctive all 
Embellish life. While thus laborious crowds 
Ply the tough oar, Philosophy directs 
The ruling helm; or like the liberal breath 
Of potent heaven, invisible, the sail 
Swells out, and bears th' inferior world along. 

7 Nor to this evanescent speck of earth 
Poorly confined, the radiant tracts on high 
Are her exalted range; intent to gaze 
Creation through; and, from that full complex 
Of never-ending wonders, to conceive 

Of the Sole Being right, who spoke the Word, 
And Nature mov'd complete. 



SECTION VI. 
Domestic Happiness. 
1 But happy they! the happiest of their kind! 
Whom gentler stars unite; and in one fate 
Their hearts, their fortunes, and their beings blend. 
Tis not the coarser tie of human laws, 
Unnatural oft, and foreign to the mind, 
That binds their peace, but harmony itself, 
Attuning all their passions into love; 
Where friendship full exerts her softest power, 
Perfect esteem enlivened by desire 
IneSable, and sympathy of soul; 
Thought meeting thought, and will preventing will 
With boundless confidence: For nought but love 
Oan answer love, and render bliss secure. 



295 

2 Let him, ungenerous, who, alone intent 
To bless himself, from sordid parents buys 
The loathing virgin, in eternal care, 
Well-merited, consume his nights and days; 
Let barbarous nations, whose inhuman love 
Is wild dpsire, fierce as the suns they feel; 
Let eastern tyrants from the, light of heaven 
Seclude their bosom-slaves, meanly possessed 
Of a mere lifeless, violated form; 

While those whom love cements in holy faith, 
And equal transport, free as Nature live, 
Disdaining fear. 

3 What is the world to them? 

Its pomp, its pleasure, and its nonsense all? 
Who in each other clasp whatever fair 
High fancy forms, and lavish hearts can wish; 
Something than beauty dearer, should they look 
Or on the mind, or mind-illumin'd face; 
Truth, goodness, honor, harmony, and love, 
The richest bounty of indulgent Heaven. 

4 Meantime a smiling offspring rises round, 
And mingles both their graces. By degrees, 
The human blossom blows; and every day, 
Soft as it rolls along, shows some new charm, 
The father's lustre, and the mother's bloom. 
Then infant reason grows apace, and calls 
For the kind hand of an assiduous care. 

5 Delightful task! to rear the tender thought, 
To teach the f"oung idea how to shoot, 

To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind, 
To breathe th' enlivening spirit, and to fix 
The generous purpose in the glowing breast. 

6 Oh, speak the joy! ye, whom the sudden tear 
Surprises often, while you look around, 

And nothing strikes your eye but sights of bliss, 
All various Nature pressing on the heart; 
An elegant sufficiency, content, 
Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books, 
Ease and alternate labor, useful life, 
Progressive virtue, and approving Heaven! 

7 These are the matchless joys of virtuous love; 
And thus their moments fly. The Seasons thus, 
As ceaseless round a jarring world they roll, 

Still find them happy; and consenting Spbing 



296 
Sheds her own rosy garland on their heads: 
Till evening comes at last, serene and mild ; 
When after the long vernal day of life, 
Enamor'd more, as more remembrance swells 
With many a proof of recollected love, 
Together down they sink in social sleep; 
Together freed, their gentle spirits fly 
To scenes where love and bliss immortal reign. 



CHAPTER 3. 

MISCELLANEOUS ARTICLES. 

SECTION I. 



Happiness: — By Miss Ann Candler, of Suffolk^ 
England. 

1 Delusive phantom, light as air, 

Whose shadow we pursue, \ 
Each rising morn with anxious care, 

We still the chase renew. 
Elate with hope we persevere, 

Still flatter'd with success; 
Yet unforeseen events defer 

Our visionary bliss. 

2 Our fruitless toil augments our pain, 

Our hopes flit swiftly by; 
We sigh, despairing to obtain 
' The transitory joy. 
Can gold untainted pleasure give? 

Can we depend on power? 
Can fame the sick'ning heart relieve, 

Or bring one happy hour? 

3 Will titles, birth, or pompous shows, 

Youth, beauty, wit combined, 
Will these, I ask, avert the woes 

EntaiPd on human kind? 
Yet still t)ur wish we may effect, 

Substantial blessings know: 
What from the shadow we expect, 

The substance will bestow. 



297 
4 With wisdom dwells our dearest bliss, 
Abounding with increase; 
" Her ways are ways of pleasantness, 

And all her paths are peace. " 
Lay hold on her, and you'll possess 

The treasure you have sought; 
Her price beyond the ruby is, 
Or gold from Ophir brought. 

Nicholson's Literary Miscellany, 



SECTION II. 
Cruelty to inferior animals censured. 

1 I would not enter on my list of friends, 
(Though gracM with polish'd manners and fine sense> 
Yet wanting sensibility,) the man 

Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm. 
An inadvertent step may crush the snail, 
That crawls at evening in the public path; 
But he that has humanity, forewarned, 
Will tread aside, and let the reptile live. 

2 The creeping vermin, loathsome to the sight, 
And charged perhaps with venom, that intrudes 
A visiter unwelcome into scenes 

Sacred to neatness and repose, th' alcove, 
The chamber, or refectory, may die. 
A necessary act incurs no blame. 

3 Not so, when held within their proper bounds, 
And guiltless of offence they range the air, 

Or take their pastime in the spacious field: 
There they are privileged. And he that hunts 
Or harms them there, is guilty of a wrong; 
Disturbs th' economy of Nature's realm, 
Who when she form'd, designM them an abode. 

4 The sum is this: if man's convenience, health, 
Or safety, interfere, his rights and claims, 

Are paramount, and must extinguish theirs. 
Else they are all — the meanest things that are, 
As free to live and to enjoy that life, 
As God was free to form them at the first, 
Who, in his sovereign wisdom, made them all. 

5 Ye, therefore, who love mercy, teach your sons 
To love it too. The spring time of our years 

fs soon dishonored and defil'd, in most, 



298 

By budding ills, that ask a prudent hand 
To check them. But alas! none sooner shoots 
If unrestrained, into luxuriant growth, 
Than cruelty. 



SECTION III. 
Mischievous Amusements of Schoolboys.* 
Schools, unless discipline were doubly strong, 
Detain their adolescent charge too long; 
The management of ty roes of eighteen 
Is difficult, their punishment obscene. 
The stout tall captain, w r hose superior size 
The minor heroes view with envious eyes, 
Becomes their pattern, upon whomthey fix 
Their whole attention, and ape all his tricks. 
His pride, that scorns t 9 obey or to submit, 
With them is courage: his effront'ry wit. 
His wild excursions, window-breaking feats, 
Robbery of gardens, quarrels in the streets, 
His hairbreadth 'scapes, and all his daring schemes, 
Transport them, and are made their favorite themes. 
In little bosoms such achievements strike 
A kindred spark: they burn to do the liker 

Cowper. 



THE END. 



299 



APPENDIX* 

AN ECONOMICAL PROJECT, FOR THE EXPEDITIOUS AND 
UNIVERSAL DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE. 

In the hope that the impulse of a disposition to "do good" may influence 
some patron of knowledge, or generous youth, in every neighborhood where 
these sheets may be circulated, to volunteer his exertions for the institution 
ttf a Free Library and Reading Society^ I annex the following form of a con- 
stitution, which such friends to society are earnestly desired to transcribe and 
present for subscription, to citizens and young people, as speedily and gene- 
rally as possible : 

THE CONSTITUTION, 

Of the Juvenile Society of for the Acquisition of 

Knowledge. 

We the subscribers, being convinced that it is indispensably necessary for 
our welfare and happiness, that we improve our minds by the acquirement 
of useful knowledge, do hereby agree to associate as a Library and Reading 
Society, and conform to the following articles of regulation ; which may, at 
any time, be altered or amended, by agreement of two thirds of the mem- 
bers of the society, who are permitted to vote. 

I. The society may be composed of young persons of both sexes, between 
ten and twenty-one years of age ; who are equally admitted to the benefits 
of this institution, (except that those who are under sixteen years of age are 
not permitted to vote) by signing these articles, and complying with their re- 
gulations. The elder members to be denominated senior, and the younger, 
junior members. 

II. Persons over twenty-one years of age, may also be admitted, and shall 
be entitled to all the privileges of senior members, by contributing two dol- 
lars, or more, at the time of their admission, and one dollar annually after- 
wards. 

HI. The society shall meet on the first Monday in the month of 

at o'clock, p. m. and choose seven trustees, a majority of whom 

shall be more than twenty-one years of age. The trustees shall appoint a 
librarian from among themselves, or the other senior members, and fill vacan- 
cies in the board, protempore, at each meeting, whenever they occur, from 
non-attendance or otherwise ; or if there should not a sufficient number be 
present for that purpose, four of the board shall be competent to transact 
business. 

IV. The librarian shall act as chairman, at the meetings of the society or 
of the trustees, and have a casting vote. He shall act as treasurer and secre- 
tary. He shall number the books, and keep a record of all that, are drawn 
and returned. He shall purchase for the library only such books as are 
authorised by the trustees. He shall keep an account of all the books, given 
or lent to the society, and of receipts and expenditures. He is authorized to 
loan books to persons who are not members, at one dollar per year, or three 
cents per week, or without any charge to those who shall obtain the certified 
consent of two of the trustees. He shall keep a distinct account of fines col- 
lected on the books lent to the society, which shall be paid to the owners. 
On the first Mondays in March and September, he shall exhrbit notices on the 



300 

doors of churches, schoolhouses, or at such other places as he may deem 
proper, inyiting all the youth to join the society, who are entitled to the priv- 
ilege, as specified in the first article. Whenever the librarian shall deem it 
expedient, he is authorized to require deposits, or orders from responsible 
persons, to be left by any person to whom he shall deliver books. 

V. All the books of the library shall be returned every week, at, or before 

o'clock, on p. m. or on the first Monday of every month ; the 

penalty for the neglect of which, shall be six cents on each book, and one 
cent per day until returned ; or if not returned within one month after the 
time aforesaid, to be paid for, if required by the trustees. 

VI. It shall be the duty of the trustees, to decide what books shall be ad 
mitted, whether offered as donations, or in payment for subscriptions, or lent ; 
to examine the books returned at each meeting, and impose reasonable fines 
on such as are damaged by ill usage ; and, if materially injured, to be paid 
for, at the appraisal of the trustees. Books which are received as donations, 
and decided to be inadmissible, shall be exchanged by the trustees, or sold at 
auction. 

VII. Those who neglect to pay fines, or other dues to the society, within 
one month after incurred, shall be prohibited the use of the library until paid. 

VIII. The library shall be open, for the delivery of books, every Satur- 
day, from one to five o'clock, for females, and from five to nine o'clock, p. m. 
for males : and books may be returned and exchanged, at all other times, 
when convenient to the librarian. 

IX. The first choice of books, at each meeting, shall belong to the patrons 
and members of the society who shall have subscribed, and paid, the greatest 
amount for the benefit of the institution, in gradation to those who shall have 
paid the least. And to others, the precedence shall belong to the oldest, in 
gradation to the youngest. 

X. A reading meeting is appointed to be held every Thursday evening, 
from six to eight o'clock ; for which purpose, any senior member of the soci- 
ety may prepare essays, or select and designate instructive and interesting 
articles from books, for the consideration of the librarian, or such of the trus- 
tees as he may nominate, who shall decide upon the pieces to be read at each 
meeting. No person to read more than than two pages at once. 

We hereby mutually recommend it to each other, to contribute twenty-five 
cents, quarterly, if possible, every year, for the purchase of new books for 
the library ; and severally promise to pay to the librarian, the amount, or. its 
value in such books as shall be accepted by the trustees, set respectively 
against our names. 

[Note. — The Compiler of the preceding work projected and established 
a free circulating library, in the year 1804, at New Lebanon, (N. Y.) for the 
exclusive benefit of Apprentices and youth of both sexes, between 12 and 
21 years of age, and similar institutions have recently been adopted in vari- 
ous parts of the United States.] 



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